


The Light in Your Eyes

by cashcakeplz



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Best Friends, Blow Jobs, Boyfriends, Boys in Skirts, Bullying, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Crying, Cyberbullying, Depression, Dirty Talk, Dysfunctional Family, Feminization, First Kiss, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Holding Hands, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lashton - Freeform, Light Dom/sub, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, M/M, Michael Clifford Loves Calum Hood, Misunderstandings, Muke - Freeform, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad, Self-Hatred, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Shy!Luke, Slow Burn, Smut, Unrequited Love, Verbal Abuse, Voyeurism, calum cries a lot, calum gets beat up a lot, calum likes to wear girly clothes, fem!calum, football!ash, happy!ash, he's their positivity, it's light though, lots and lots of fluff, luke hurts a lot, malum, michael is very gentle with calum, michael tries to help, michael worries about him, pretty!calum, protective!Michael, very very close friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 05:19:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 49,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5444678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cashcakeplz/pseuds/cashcakeplz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In general, Calum just owned a lot of pretty things, and he used to get picked on a lot for it. People would call him out for wearing make-up back when he had just turned thirteen, and then proceed to laugh and beat the shit out of him. <br/>Michael was always there, though, and his scrawny little ass would pound those douche bag’s faces in whenever one of them had dared to lay a finger on his best friend. Or at least, he tried. <br/>Michael had his fair share of losses in his every-day battles against douche bagery. <br/>It never stopped him, though. <br/>Especially when all of those ‘straight’ ‘men’ turned their abuse from not only physical, but to sexual and mental as well, sexual being the most reoccurring theme. <br/>Especially not then.</p>
<p>Or the one where Calum is beautiful and beaten, Michael is in love with his best friend, Luke is lost, and Ashton just wants everyone to be happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lilac

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!!!!!  
> I'M BACKKKKKK  
> Okay, so in case you're wondering, I'm working on the ending of So Much Better, so please don't panic!  
> Okay, this work is my new baby, and I've been writing it forever, and I'm so excited to share it with you guys. It's kind boring in the beginning, but please hang with me.   
> This work is very trigger-heavy, and it involves a lot of sensitive things. Please, please read the tags thoroughly before reading!!  
> Thank you guys so much for ever reading any of the crap I write.   
> I hope you enjoy!!  
> XX-Alex   
> P.S. Calum is very, very pretty and quiet in this fic :))))

“What the hell, you fucking reject-”

Michael didn’t even listen to the rest of Jackson’s words before his fist was connecting with his face. Jackson stumbled back in surprise, and what Michael hoped was pain. He felt a few of his own knuckles split and start to bleed, and the others start to bruise.

He felt a sense of pride run through him as Jackson cupped his jaw, but it quickly vanished when Jackson gave him a murderous look, and came back swinging. Michael moved just in time, causing Jackson to put a decent-sized dent in the locker where Calum had been a minute before.

Jackson howled in rage, and Michael was smirking until the larger boy tackled him to the ground. Michael’s head whiplashed roughly on the floor, but he still fought, flailing wildly under the weight of Jackson to try and free his hands, which were pinned under his knees. Jackson laughed at him as he inched up his chest.

“What now, kid? Your pretty little friend over there doesn’t stand a chance with a pathetic loser like you.” He taunted laughing at Michael again.

Michael filled with rage at the mention of his ‘pretty little friend’, the friend that he was currently getting punched for, and would a thousand times over again. Using his rage to fuel his strength, Michael managed to free his left arm between Jackson’s brutal punches. He took his fist, and nailed him straight in the balls. Michael never, ever said he played fair.

Jackson groaned, and fell back, cupping his crotch. Michael smirked again, and stood up, punching the bigger boy in the face. Ryan glared again, and then, Michael was back on the ground,except, not pinned like before. This time, he and Jackson wrestled on the floor, Jackson landing a few knee jerks into Michael’s groin. Michael felt tears in his eyes as Jackson’s elbow connected with his nose, but he fought back, and before he knew it, he had Jackson pinned beneath him.

“You’re so fucking lucky you were here.” Jackson groaned. “God, just imagine the things I would have done to him if you hadn’t shown up.”

Michael growled, and punched Jackson in the face, sending his head smashing into the floor.

“He would’ve been begging for it by the time you found him, fucking little slut-”

Jackson was cut off by Michael again, who began raining punches down on his face, enraged by the things he was saying. Jackson’s face was soon covered in blood, and Michael wasn’t even thinking about stopping.

“Mikey,” Someone said, placing light fingers on his shoulder blade. Michael turned to look, one hand still fisted in Jackson’s shirt.

Calum was standing behind him, eyes still filled with tears, and a desperate expression on his face.

“Please, it’s fine, let’s just go.” He said softly, and Michael hesitated. He knew Calum had probably been begging him to stop during the fight, but he tuned him out. If Calum wouldn’t stand for himself, someone had to. Michael looked from Jackson, whose nose was steadily bleeding, to Calum, whose pretty pink lips were bitten raw.

“Please.” Calum begged one more time, pulling at Michael’s shoulder. Michael sighed, and reluctantly let go of Jackson’s shirt. He stood up, taking his weight off the older boy. Immediately, friends of Jackson helped the boy up, and gave Michael filthy looks.

“That right, pussy-boy, run. Take your little faggot with you.” Jackson spit, pushing his friends away so he could stand on his own. Michael turned around, ready to charge, but Calum pulled him back by the arm, and Michael had to settle for swearing at the kid.

“Go fuck yourself, Jackson.” He spit whilst being dragged down the hall by Calum.

Jackson and his little crew began to laugh at him, but Michael didn’t care. He turned around, and stomped down the hall, brushing Calum’s hand off his arm, leaving the younger boy behind.

“Mikey, wait up…” Calum whined, his legs still shorter than Michael’s. Michael took a deep breath, and stopped, waiting to Calum to come to him. He immediately grabbed Calum’s hands, and looked over his arms and face.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, checking the underside of his arms.

“No, Mikey, I-” He started, but Michael interrupted.

“Calum, did he hurt you?” He asked again, looking into Calum’s eyes. Calum shook his head quickly, curling away from Michael.

“No, he didn’t. I’m fine.” He said quietly.

“Calum-” Michael started, but stopped when Calum shook his head.

“It’s fine, I promise. He didn’t hit me, I swear.” He said, and the way Calum shook when he said ‘I swear’ was enough to make Michael’s blood boil again.

“I’ll kill him. Him and his entire dumbass crew.” He said, letting go of Calum’s hands to look down the hall.

“Michael, really, it’s okay. Let’s just forget about it.” Calum insisted, but Michael shook his head, his hands curling into fists. The longer he thought about how he had caught Jackson with his hands pressed to Calum’s chest, the younger pinned to a locker, the angrier he got.

“He can’t just treat you like that, Calum, someone-”

“Michael, please, it’s fine. I don’t want you getting hurt. Can we just…” He stopped, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself down. “Can we just go home?”

Michael looked at Calum, whose mascara was running down from the corners of his eyes, his lips bitten raw, body still shaking a little bit. No matter how much he wanted to go back, and pound Jackson’s face in, Calum came first.

“Yeah.” He said with a small smile. “Let’s go.”

Calum sighed with relief, and began to take books out of his locker, and put them in his bag. Calum looked cute today, he always did. Not that Michael really thought about that, considering he wasn’t really into boys, but still, anybody who looked at Calum, with his light lilac skirt and lacy white top would think the boy was absolutely adorable. He had all-white Vans on his feet, and cute lilac necklaces around his neck. His makeup was better than anyone’s in the entire school, even now, with it running down his still-flushed cheeks. Michael could only think that if he was into guys, Calum would definitely be his target.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Calum, who brushed his hands over Michael’s cheek gently. Michael looked up at him, Calum’s face twisted into one of pain.

“You’re hurt.” He said, and Michael reached a hand up to feel where Calum had been touching. His finger came back a little bloody.

“Yeah, well that’s what happens when you get punched in the face repeatedly.” He said with a smile.

“I’m sorry. This is my fault.” Calum said, his last sentence whispered.

“Hey, no. It’s not, I threw the first punch, it was most definitely my fault, Cal.” Michael reassured, wiping away blood from his cheek. Calum bit his lip, and blinked quickly, as if he was holding back tears.

“I shouldn’t have let him,” He started, but Michael shook his head.

“No. C’mon, Cal, you’re half his size. It’s not your fault. Like you said, let’s just forget about it, yeah?” Michael reassured. Calum nodded, looking down at the ground. Michael could tell it was still bothering him, but the younger boy made it seem like it didn’t matter at all. That worried Michael.

They walked out of the school together, Michael close to Calum as they walk by Jackson and his friends, the boy’s arm around his girlfriend. Fucking pig. Once they’re out of the school, they begin their walk to Calum’s house.

Michael has to smile at Calum because as they walked, the boy stepped over all the cracks, never stepping on one. He had a bit of a skip in his step, causing his skirt to fly up a little more than normally, exposing his upper thigh. The entire thing was cute to Michael, and he had a fond smile permanently plastered to his face.

They didn’t talk on their way home, just walked together, Michael smiling like an idiot, Calum skipping over cracks and humming to an old Green Day song that even Michael couldn’t name. When they finally arrived, the sun was starting to set, and Michael’s feet were killing him. Calum had to walk miles to get to his house, and Michael didn’t have his car currently, so he walked the killer couple of miles to the younger’s house.

Calum walked up his front steps, Michael following. The younger boy opened the door, and peeked in before shutting it, leaving him and Michael on the outside of the house. He gave Michael a sheepish smile, hand still on the door handle. He didn’t say anything for a second, avoiding eye contact, his fingers drumming on the door handle.

“Calum, no.” Michael whined before Calum could even start.

“I’m sorry, Michael.” He shrugged. “Just...not today, okay?”

Michael’s shoulders slumped, and he gave Calum a pout.

“Thanks for walking me home.” Calum said shamefully, looking at his pretty white shoes. Michael immediately felt guilty for whining to Calum, the younger boy had enough to deal with. “I’m sorry.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I understand. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Do you want me to walk you to school?” He asked easily, trying to relax for Calum’s sake. The younger boy just shook his head, his hand tense on the door handle.

“Alright, see you in English, then?” He asked, and Calum nodded again, avoiding Michael’s eyes. Michael tried to not let that bother him, and he nodded before patting Calum’s shoulder, and stepping down his steps.

“Text me when you get home, okay?” Calum said, almost anxiously, and Michael turned to give him a smile.

“I will, see you tomorrow, Cal.”

Calum smiled at him before opening his door, and stepping into his house shakily. Michael grimaced as the door shut. He hated when Calum wouldn’t let him come inside, it made him uneasy. He didn’t know what went on in that house, but he knew it couldn’t be good. Calum often called him in the middle of the night, gently crying always wanting to talk because he couldn’t sleep. It was fine by Michael, the first couple times it was annoying, because he only got a few hours of sleep, but Michael would stay up for days if it meant Calum would feel better.

He would do probably anything for him to be honest.

So, he does as Calum asks, and walks to his house on his own without asking any questions. He’s pretty used to it by now, but it still bothers him. What could really be so bad that he wouldn’t let Michael, his best friend since fourth grade, see?

When he finally gets home, dusk is approaching, and his feet are aching. He doesn’t how Calum does it, the walk just kills him. He unlocks his back door, and slips in. His house is dark and empty as usual, his parents both out at a convention in Perth. It doesn’t bother him much anymore. It used to when he was a kid, but he got used to being alone. He accepted that it was easier for his parents to pretend he didn’t exist than to put the effort into loving him. They didn’t love him, and it was as simple as that.

He threw his bag on the floor, deciding his homework wasn’t worth his time, as usual. He worked his way into the kitchen, groaning as he turned on the lights. Sadie, the lady who cleaned the house, hadn’t come in a few days, and Michael felt a little lonelier than usual. Sadie sometimes made him dinner, and she often cleaned his knuckles when he got into a fight. She was probably the closest thing to family he had with the exception of Calum and a few outside friends that he hadn’t seen in awhile.

He tried not to let it get to him, and he put a pot of water on the stove to boil for box Mac’n’Cheese. He sat down at the counter, turning on his television for background noise, while grabbing his phone.

Now here’s the thing, Michael’s parents have money. Lots of it. Michael lives in the richest part of Sydney in a house that would be too big for his and Calum’s family combined. Karen and Daryl keep an account for Michael full, letting the boy spend as much money as he wants. So, Michael is quite up-to-date with his clothes and technology, and he’s incredibly grateful. He doesn’t need anything else to get beaten up over.

To: Hoodie

Hey, I’m home now, hope things are going okay

Michael texted Calum quickly, letting the boy know all was well. He didn’t have to wait very long for a response.

To: Gordon

Things are good. Glad you’re home, is Sadie there?

To: Hoodie

Nah. She won’t be back until Thursday.

To: Gordon

Oh. I’m sorry you’re alone.

To: Hoodie

It’s cool. I like being alone anyway. Plus, I get to make my own dinner!

To: Gordon

Oh, no.

To: Hoodie

Um, excuse you, I am fully capable of making mac’n’cheese from a box, thank you.

To: Gordon

I don’t doubt you. I only worry for you burning your house down.

To: Hoodie

Very funny. You better watch yourself, Hood, or the next house I’ll be burning will be yours.

To: Gordon

Ha, be my guest. Then I’ll live with you because you feel so guilty.

To: Hoodie

You sound awful sure of yourself.

To: Gordon

When it comes you to, I am definitely sure ;)

To: Hoodie

You are so spoiled, I swear.

To: Gordon

You spoil me. I never asked for it :))

To: Hoodie

*sigh* why do I put up with you?

To: Gordon

I like to think it’s my shining personality

To: Hoodie

That’s definitely it :)

Michael smiled at his phone, walking over to the stove to start boiling his noodles. His phone quickly went off again, and he happily walked over to it.

To: Gordon

Are you okay, btw? That fight was pretty rough.

To: Hoodie

Yeah, just a few bumps. I’ll have a nasty bruise under my eye tomorrow, and a little gash, but that’ll at least make me look cooler than I am.

To: Gordon

Michael, be serious.

To: Hoodie

Honestly, Cal, I’m fine. Only a couple of my knuckles split, and the bruises don’t even hurt. Please, don’t worry.

To: Gordon

I’m sorry this happened. You know you don’t need to get into fights for me, right?

To: Hoodie

Of course I know that. But seriously, he deserved what he got. He should never be touching you like that

Calum didn’t reply for a few minutes, so Michael got up, and stirred in his cheese. By the time the pasta had cooled, and Michael had it in a bowl with a spoon, his phone was lighting up with another text.

To: Gordon

I know. I’ll try and stand up for myself next time, I’m not helpless.

To: Hoodie

I know you’re not.

To: Gordon

I’m sorry, I have to go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow though, Mikey.

Michael glanced at his clock. It was barely 8:30, why would Calum need to go to bed?

To: Hoodie

Alright. Try and get some sleep, though, okay? Call me if you need anything.

To: Gordon

I will. Sweet dreams.

To: Hoodie

You too, Cal.

The rest of Michael’s night went by quickly, finishing dinner, cleaning his knuckles, staying up until 1 am playing a video game. He finally passed out around 1:45 am, his phone locked, but next to his head in case he received a very important phone call from a very important, very pretty boy.


	2. Periwinkle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo.  
> I got so many positive reviews from the first chapter, thank you guys so much!  
> I hope you like this one as well, it's just a lot of Malum fluff, because they're the bestest of friends.  
> Side note, Luke's character won't be introduced for a while, so just hang tight, okay?!  
> Thank you guys so much!!  
> XX-Alex

Michael was late.

Very late.

He finally registered his alarm blaring at 7:12 a.m., and he fell to the floor, swearing. School starts at 7:30.

And he has to walk.

As he runs around his room wildly, searching for suitable clothes underneath all the filth that has layered itself on his floor, he mentally thanks Calum for not needing to be walked to school.

Good lad.

After he pulls on a grey t-shirt that he’s positive he’s never seen before, and some skinny jeans, he’s running out of his room, nearly killing himself on the stairs. He hastily grabs his backpack from where he left it last night, beside the backdoor, and leaves his house, locking the door behind him.

As he quickly walks down the sidewalk, he ignores the weird looks his neighbors are sending him, and runs his fingers wildly through his hair, praying the strands don’t look as bad as he thinks.

He pulls his phone from his pocket, and pops in some headphones, playing Sleeping With Sirens as loud as loud as they could go, then sets his pace, marching towards school as quickly as he can.

He really wishes he had his car.

By the time the school is even within sight, it 7:28, and Michael has been jogging for the past five minutes. The exercise makes him once again thank Calum mentally because the boy always takes Michael when he goes on runs. Michael isn’t even breaking a sweat.

Okay so he’s a little sweaty...all well.

He finally reaches the doors of the school, he speeds past the front office, ignoring the looks from the two secretaries.

Fuck them.

They should consider themselves lucky that he would even show up. He’s only here for Calum, who he has his first class with.

After shoving the needed books from his locker into his bag, he jogs back to the other side of the school to his class, English 10.

He knocks on the door quickly, and lets out a relieved sigh when a kid from the first row, Jesse, opens the door rather than his teacher. Michael nods to Jesse, who sits down without looking at Michael, and hustles into the class, dipping his head slightly.

“Mr. Clifford, you are seven minutes late.” His teacher sighs, rolling her eyes slightly.

“Yes, I’m aware.” He says, trying not to snap at Mrs. Ricksen because she’s one of the few teachers that is halfway decent to Michael.

“Just sit down.” She says with a roll of her eyes. Michael rolls his eyes as well, but he thanks her anyway, and all but runs to his seat in the back of the class next to Calum.

Calum is sitting quietly at his desk, his fingers playing with the edge of his paper. He’s wearing tight black leggings and what looks like an incredibly soft blue sweater. He isn’t wearing much make-up, just a little bit of mascara, and some black eyeliner. His hair is long and fluffy, and has still-fading streaks of blonde in the front.

He looked cute.

“Hey.” Michael said, sitting down while putting his bag on the floor.

“Morning.” Calum smiled, tugging on his sleeve.

“Sorry, I woke up late.” He said, pulling out his English notebook.

“It’s okay.” Calum said, shaking his head quickly.

“How was your walk?” Michael asked, genuinely curious.

“Chilly.” He shrugged.

Michael nodded slowly, frowning when his stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. Calum watched as he made the funny face, and he frowned, reaching for his backpack.

“Here.” He said, handing Michael a pack of crackers. Michael looked from the crackers, to Calum, then back to the crackers. Calum shook his hand, encouraging Michael to take them. Michael eventually did, opening the pack onto his desk.

“Thanks.” He said with a smile, popping one into his mouth. Calum smiled in acknowledgement, leaning back into his chair awkwardly, almost stiffly. Michael frowned at the action, some crumbs on his chin. Calum caught him looking, and he quickly relaxed, looking down to his paper.

“Calum,” Michael said, turning to face the younger. Calum didn’t answer, he just continued to look at his notes from yesterday.

Just then, one of Jackson’s friends, Max walked down their aisle, going to the back of the room to get paper. He saw Calum, who was quietly avoiding Michael’s eyes, and sniggered.

“Hey faggot.” He muttered smugly, kicking Calum’s bag as he went by. Calum flinched at the insult, but he didn’t say anything, just kept looking at his notebook.

Michael glared at Max as he walked back, hoping to burn holes in the back of his head. When he came back by, Michael made sure to stick his foot out in a weak attempt to trip him.

It was easily avoided with a snicker to Michael, and a wink to Calum.

“Fucking asshole.” Michael spit, glaring at Max’s back. Calum nodded slightly, and he took out his textbook, opening to the pages they were supposed to be reading.

“Cal?” Michael asked, leaning across the aisle to lean on the younger’s desk. Calum looked up from his assignment to Michael without saying anything.

“Are you mad at me?” He asks, already knowing the question is stupid.

“Of course not.” Calum said softly, smiling at Michael a little.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” He presses, and Calum’s smile falters for a second.

“Nothing’s wrong, Mikey. I would tell you if something was.” Calum says, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Would you tell me if something happened this morning?” Michael asks, and Calum blushes.

“I...don’t worry about it, Michael. It doesn’t matter.” He said, shaking his head, and looking back to his book.

“It sure as hell does matter, Calum.” Michael pressed, dipping down to look at Calum. Calum shook his head again, biting the edge of his lip.

“Michael, please...just leave it. I’m fine.” Calum said, but Michael pressed closer, nobody paid them any attention, their teacher set them loose for partner work, and everyone was amongst their own groups of friends.

“Cal.” He said sternly, and Calum’s lip wobbled. “You don’t have to tell me what happened, just tell me who it was.”

Calum stayed with his head down, and he was quiet for a second, deciding if he should tell Michael or not.

“Was it Max?” Michael asked, but Calum shook his head.

“It was just Jackson again.” He eventually mumbled, so quiet, if Michael hadn’t been so close, he never would have heard it. Michael let out a loose breath, expelling anger with it.

“I swear to god-”

“Michael.” Calum cut off, looking back up at the older boy.

“Calum, come on. I got in a fight with him just yesterday for this same exact thing. “ Michael said, his anger settling in his stomach.

“Michael, please, just let this one go, okay? It wasn’t even bad, and he...he stopped.” Calum said, madly explaining to Michael.

“What did he do?” He asked, his hands curling into fists.

“He...nothing, Michael.”

“Calum, tell me. If he hurt you, I swear to-”

“He didn’t!” Calum cut off. “He just...he mostly just talked to me, and when I asked him to stop, and tried to push him away, he laughed and shoved me into a locker. It didn’t hurt much, except the lock dug into my back, and now that spot hurts.” He said quietly, playing with the cuffs of his sweater.

Michael shook his head and sighed.

“I’m sorry, Calum. I should have been here.” He said, knowing Calum gets picked on way less when Michael is around.

“No, no it’s fine. I’m not your responsibility.” Calum said quickly.

Michael’s first instinct was to argue, but he knew that it would just make Calum feel worse.

“I know, I’m sorry I acted like a dick.”

Calum just shrugged, and looked back down.

“So...do you wanna start this worksheet? I don’t really want to do it at home.” He said, looking up at Michael.

“Uhm...yeah.” Michael answered, looking over the book. The words seemed to float across the page, and out of Michael’s vision, and the boy tightened his fist in annoyance. He grit his teeth and squinted his eyes, focusing harder on each individual letter. He could eventually put the word together if he focused hard enough, but it gave him a horrible headache.

“Okay, so Chapter 7, section 3.” Calum started, reading out loud. Michael gave him a grateful look. Calum always knew that Michael struggled with reading, and he read out loud whenever he could.

Michael never asked about Calum’s home life, and Calum never asked Michael about his problems reading.

Some things were just better left alone.

Class passed by quickly after that, Calum and Michael working on their worksheet without further mentioning of the morning. The bell eventually rang, and there was practically a stampede to get through the door, everyone ignoring Mrs. Ricksen’s screeching from them to calm down.

Calum and Michael walked side by side as always, Michael telling Calum about all his amazing adventures in gaming during the previous night. Calum smiled, and hummed at certain times, but he never interrupted Michael or tried to talk about himself.

Michael was used to that. Calum was unusually quiet, and Michael had learned to fill the awkward silences rather well. At first, he felt a little guilty because he was constantly talking about himself, but it quickly became obvious that Calum didn’t mind.

So, Michael talked.

He talked all the way to second period, and then through that to third, and then to fourth. He and Calum only had two classes apart, and Michael was incredibly grateful, it helped him keep an eye on the younger boy. Not that he needed it, but Michael worries.

They ate lunch together outside, even though it was a little chilly, Michael munching on the school’s pizza, and Calum eating a peanut-butter and strawberry jelly sandwich from his pink lunch box.

Calum owned a lot of pink.

In general, Calum just owned a lot of pretty things, and he used to get picked on a lot for it. People would call him out for wearing make-up back when he had just turned thirteen, and then proceed to laugh and beat the shit out of him.

Michael was always there, though, and his scrawny little ass would pound those douche bag’s faces in whenever one of them had dared to lay a finger on his best friend. Or at least, he tried.

Michael had his fair share of losses in his every-day battles against douche bagery.

It never stopped him, though.

Especially when all of those ‘straight’ ‘men’ turned their abuse from not only physical, but to sexual and mental as well, sexual being the most reoccurring theme.

Especially not then.

Michael had done everything in his power to make it stop. It took him a while to figure out it was happening in the first place, Calum never told him, he just became a lot more quiet than usual. But, Michael found out one day halfway through Year 9 when Max Vetch had Calum pinned to a wall with a hand up his pretty pastel skirt.

The kid was in the hospital for two days with a broken nose and clavicle.

Michael was suspended for two weeks.

When he came back, the principal had ignored his claims of Calum being sexually abused, convinced that Michael was making it up. Michael had been infuriated, and he earned himself another two days of suspension for some choice words thrown at the man. His parents had been called in, but as always, Sadie was the only one to show up.

She believed Michael.

Michael also told his most trusted teachers, including ones from middle school, but they did nothing for him except tick themselves off his “Trusted” list.

Michael’s last card, telling Calum’s parents to move him to a new school was an empty hope. He had told Calum to ask them, but the next day he came back with a shrug and told Michael: “It’s never going to happen. I’m sorry Michael.”

He apologized. To Michael. Because his parents wouldn’t transfer him to a safer school even if it meant he had to be away from his only true friend.

That was things sank in for Michael. He and Calum were on their own. Just like they always had been.

Things definitely could have been worse, Michael could have been expelled several times on account of fighting, but he never was. He suspected his father had pulled some strings, and that was basically the only time Michael felt any emotion towards his dad.

Other than that, he could care less about what his parents do.

When lunch finally ended, Michael looked over his schedule to see they had music next.

It was a new semester, which meant new schedules.

He saw that the music teacher was some new guy by the name of ‘Feldmann’, and he snorted. Music was a brand-new class, and he’s sure the teacher is some old guy who came out of retirement to amuse himself by teaching students to play the triangle.

Michael already hated it.

But, the enthused look on Calum’s face as they walked down the hall was undeniable. Calum loved music. It was one of the only things that he loved that rubbed off on Michael. He and Calum would spend hours after school in Michael’s car, listening to record after record while it rained. The thought of music, no matter how cheesy it sounds, comforted Michael.

When they reached the class, the door was already open, and Led Zeppelin’s Physical Graffiti was playing from inside. Michael’s interest was peaked.

Michael walked in before Calum, eyeing the room full of instruments. The music was coming from faded speakers in the back that was hooked up to an Ipod. Michael wondered whose it was.

The room was already pretty full of people, and Michael didn’t really mind, because it was none of the obnoxious people, just people who were kind of...there.

Michael spotted Jesse, the kid who opened the door for him that morning. He’d been in Michael’s year since he was seven, but he didn’t even know what his last name was.

He was sitting next to his girlfriend that Michael thinks is called Maddie, but he couldn’t remember.

There was Jack, one of his old friends, who sat with his best friend Zach, who didn’t talk much, but worked out probably more than humanly possible.

Michael was suddenly brought back to reality when Calum tugged on his sleeve.

“What?” He asked the younger boy, who had his books cradled to his chest.

“Can we move?” He asked, and Michael quickly nodded.

He led Calum to the back of the room, and they both sat down on some sort of platform thing, Michael nearly killing himself when tripping on a wire. He heard Jack sicker at him, so when he sat down, he flipped the kid off. Jack sent him a cheeky smile.

Jackass.

Michael looked away from Jack as the bell rang to search the front of the room. When he finally found what he was looking for, the teacher’s desk, he was fairly surprised.

The teacher, contrary to Michael’s thoughts, was not some old dirt bag. The guy looked young, I mean. Like, 40, but whatever. 

He had white hair, and crazy eyes looking over some sheet music. 

Michael was officially intrigued.

“Alright.” The man said, standing up in front of the room and clapping his hands together, making his students shut up.

“Hello, welcome to music 10, I’m Mr. Feldmann, and-”

“Where’d you come from?” Michael blurted without thinking. He felt Calum dig an elbow in his ribs, but he couldn’t help it, something about Mr. Feldmann made him interested. Mr. Feldmann seemed rather unfazed, he just sighed before addressing Michael.

“Perth.”

Michael nodded slowly, looking over the teacher again.

“Is that all you’d like to know, Mr…”

“Clifford.” Michael said quickly. “Yes.”

“Fantastic, now please be quiet.”

Michael nodded, and shrunk back next to Calum.

“Anyway,” Mr. Feldmann said, and just like that, he was off, into explaining the year, and apologizing for not having any chairs yet.

“This room has been out of commision for a while.” He explained, smiling at his class. “But, it’s in use now, and I cannot tell you...how excited I am to have this class.”

Michael watched as he talked with interest, chapped pale lips moving rhythmically, his eyes widening to emphasize his main points. He was interested by his new teacher. He hoped he didn't screw this up. 

“This guy seems weird.” Michael whispered to Calum, who was sitting with his knees tucked up to his chest. The younger shrugged.

“I don’t know.” He said quietly.

Michael looked back to the front of the room, trying to ignore the way Calum had bit his lip, obviously trying to contain a smile. He knew Calum liked the new teacher, the only problem was...he barely even knew who he was. Michael didn’t want to see him get hurt, even if it was just a music teacher.

Class went on, Mr. Feldmann explained that they wouldn’t really be doing anything that day, just going over what they would be doing during the grand scheme of the year.  Michael stopped listening some 15 minutes in, instead balling up little pieces of paper, and throwing them at Jack, who was seated across the room. The kid gave him an evil smirk, and started returning them eventually.

Calum watched them from the side, his pretty brown eyes watching the way Michael would smile while ducking away from Jack’s onslaught. Calum liked when Michael was happy, even if it wasn’t because of him. Michael spent a lot of time scowling, and there was nothing prettier to Calum than when he smiled.

He got so lost in Michael, and Michael got so lost in his paper-ball fight with Jack that they didn’t even realize they only had a few minutes left of class. The bell rang, surprising them, and Michael smirked at Jack, who was poised to throw another ball of paper at him. Jack slumped down in defeat, and threw the paper to the side.

Michael got up, and offered Calum a hand, which he took gratefully.

“Thanks.”

“Welcome. You ready to go?”

Calum nodded, and grabbed his bag, and the two began to walk out.

“Mr. Clifford.”

Michael and Calum both turned to see Mr. Feldmann looking at Michael over his glasses.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“A word, please.” He says, gesturing to his desk. Michael looks at Calum, who looks a little nervous.

“Go, I’ll be there soon.” He says gently, and Calum looks hesitant, but he goes anyway.

Ashton watches with interest as Michael watches him go, looking after him as far as he can. Michael turns back around eventually, his jaw clenched.

“Yes?” He asks, looking at his teacher with an annoyed expression. He was fine all day. What in the hell does his teacher want from him?

“I’m not stupid, you know.”

Michael scoffed, and opened his mouth to respond, but he was cut off.

“I’m not. I see you throwing things at the kid with black hair.”

“Jack.” Michael clarifies, suddenly bored.

“Yes,” Mr. Feldmann hums. “look, this is music class. I know it will be easy, but please...don’t mess around constantly, it’s annoying, and it will just earn you trouble. “

Michael gave Mr. Feldmann a slow look.

“Fine.” He scowled. “Can I go now?”

Mr. Feldmann sighed, taking his glasses off, and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, you may go.”

Michael nodded, and high-tailed it outta there. When he got to his class, making it approximately 6 seconds before the bell, he found Calum sitting curled up in his desk, with one of Jackson’s meathead friends leaning on it. Calum looks thoroughly uncomfortable, his eyes cast down on his desk, his fingers nervously gripping the end of his sleeves. Michael hates seeing him like this, vulnerable as some dickhead makes fun of him to try and make himself feel more manly.

Michael stalks over quickly, getting there just as Jackson’s friend, Brendan, leans in, and whispers not-so-quietly: “Where’s your little friend now, Hood?”

“Here.” Michael says, gripping his collar, and pulling him away from Calum. Brendan stumbles backwards, caught off guard.

“What, get the fuck off-”

“If I ever see you talk to him again, I swear to god - I will smash your face in.” He threatens, his hand fisting the front of his shirt. Brendan has the balls to laugh.

“What are you gonna do, Clifford?” He taunts, minty breath smashing into Michael’s face.

“Do you want to find out? Why don’t you ask your friend Jackson and his broken nose.” He spits.

“Give up this act, Michael. You can’t protect this loser, look at him, he’s a fucking cocksucker. Why do you waste your time on him?” Brendan says, and Michael can’t see the way Calum flinches at his harsh words.

“Listen to me, you piece of shit.” Michael says, bringing Brendan closer. “This ‘cocksucker’s’ name is Calum, and he’s amazing. He’s ten times the person that you will ever be, and he doesn’t deserve any of the shit you and your fucking pigs for friends give him. You don’t deserve to talk to him, to look at him, or to touch him. And for the record, I don’t waste my time with him, I value every fucking second I have with him. So take your superiority complex and your fucked-up thoughts, and get the fuck out of his life, or so help me god, I will end yours.”

With that, he shoves Brendan away, sending him back to his group of friends, all of them looking hesitantly at Michael and Calum, who has relaxed a little, his knuckles no longer white from a death grip.

Michael sits down slowly, setting his backpack on the desk, and looking at his smaller friend.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” He says softly, making sure to keep in his own space. Calum shakes his head.

“No, it’s fine.”

“I know you don’t like when I get in fights over you.” Michael says, and Calum nods. The younger doesn’t say anything after that, so Michael leaves him. He’s sure Calum just wants to spend time in his own head, and he’s okay with that. He’s probably had enough Michael for a while.

The last few minutes of class, their teacher assigns them homework, which makes all of them groan. Calum goes a little paler than usual, but Michael doesn’t think much of it.

The bell finally rings, and Calum and Michael part ways for the last class of the day. Michael is usually pretty on edge during Algebra, considering Calum’s away from him, and the class passes by quickly. The final bell rings, and Michael rushes to his locker before turning to go to Calum’s.

Luckily, he meets Calum before he can even reach the correct locker wing, which is a good sign.

“No trouble?” He asks when Calum gets to him. Calum gives him a smile, one that feels pretty rare.

“None.” He says, looking up at Michael with soft eyes.

“You ready to go home?”

Calum nods.

“Yeah, please take me there.” He says, and Michael smiles.

They walk out just like they do everyday, side-by-side. As they walk, Calum reaches out his hand, and Michael takes it gladly, and Calum seems to brighten up a little.

“Hey,” Michael says, walking along the cracked sidewalk. It’s been raining a lot lately, and the cement is stained dark grey. Calum looks up at him. “are you alright? You seem a bit down.”

“Yeah.” Calum nods. “I just don’t really want to go home.”

“Want to come to mine? No one’s there.”

Calum offered him a small smile, and nodded.

“Alright then, let’s go. Sorry, Cal, but I hate walking to your house.”

“Me too.” Calum said before smiling slightly. “Maybe if we had your car-”

“Don’t even start with that, Hood.”

“I mean, you did run it into a tree…” Calum says, and Michael rolls his eyes.

“Well, if someone hadn’t been distracting me, we would’ve avoided the tree.” He says, and Calum smiles.

“I don’t think I was the reason we hit the tree.” He says softly.

“You were putting on mascara in my vehicle, you didn’t think I would get distracted?” He says, and Calum turns a little pink while shaking his head sheepishly. “C’mon, Cal. I love watching you put on makeup, you can’t do it while I’m driving.”

“You know that’s kinda weird, right?” Calum says cheekily, and Michael rolls his eyes.

“You’re calling me weird?” Michael says, which might be considered mean, but he knows Calum doesn’t mind when it’s him.

“Yes, I am. It’s one thing for a gay boy to wear makeup around, but it’s another thing for his straight best friend to like watching him put in on.” Calum says with a smile, and Michael smiles to himself as he looks over the blue polish on Calum’s nails.

“Maybe I’ve changed my mind. Maybe you should just go home.” Michael says, and he’s kidding, of course he is, but Calum goes a little pale, and Michael knows that was a mistake.

“I’m sorry.” He says quietly, shutting down a little, and Michael is desperate to make him open up.

“Hey, I was kidding.” He says quickly, squeezing Calum’s fingers. “I want you to come home with me, I was kidding, I promise.”

Calum bites his lip, but smiles through it regardless.

“I know, sorry, I didn’t mean to overreact.” He says, and Michael smiles to himself.

“And hey, just between you and me,” He says to Calum, lifting their joined hands to his lips. “maybe I’m not as straight as I’d like to be.”

Calum rolls his eyes, and brings their hands back down.

“Stop.” Calum says. Calum thinks he’s kidding, and Michael thinks so too, but he’s probably not. He probably isn’t as straight as he wants to be, and he knows that. He can’t really help it when he’s best friends with someone as pretty as Calum.

“Alright.” He says with a smirk.

They walk the rest of the way to Michael’s in relative silence, swinging their intertwined hands between them. When they get there, Michael’s house in quiet and dark as always, but neither of them mind, especially Calum, who enjoy the peacefulness of the large house. Michael holds the back door open for him, and Calum rewards him with a smile.

“So,” Michael says after throwing his backpack to the floor, and marching into the kitchen. “how was your day?”

Calum snorts.

“You were there for all of it.” Calum says, and Michael clicks his tongue.

“That’s not what I asked.” He said, grabbing the apple juice from his fridge. Calum rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

“School was good.” He says in an entirely unconvincing way.

“Ah, and by that you mean that school fucking sucked because school sucks everyday.” Michael supplied, pouring Calum a glass.

“Yes.” Calum said, just a little bit quieter than before, like he was too loud. Michael gave him a curious look while passing him the glass of juice, which Calum took gratefully. He took his own cup in his hands, and leaned on the counter on his elbows, facing Calum. They were quiet for a second, Calum sipping, and Michael thinking.

“Whatchya thinkin’ about, Mikey?” Calum’s quiet voice brought Michael back. Calum was quiet, but he cared about Michael a lot, and sometimes he wanted to know what went on in his head. Michael didn’t answer right away, just pondered whilst starting at his cup of liquid.

“Does your back hurt?” He said eventually, concern swimming in his eyes. Calum knew that wasn’t what he’d been thinking, but it didn’t matter, he couldn’t call Michael out on that.

“Not much, only when I move my shoulder.” Calum answered.

“Do you want me to look at it?” Michael offered, gentle and soft. Calum bit his lip and shook his head.

“No. Thank you, but it’s okay.” He said. Michael raised an eyebrow, but nodded all the same, and continued to drink his juice.

Sometime later, when the two boys had finished all their homework, which made Calum feel much better, and when Michael had played at least 10 rounds on his new game while Calum sat on his bed reading, they were in Michael’s bathroom, the older sitting on the closed toilet lid while the younger worked on his face. Halfway through round 12, one of the cuts on Michael’s face had reopened, and now Calum was working to fix it. Calum’s hands were soft, and his clothes smelled like strawberries. Michael liked having him this close, it made him feel like he’d done a good job keeping Calum safe. As long as Calum was right here, nothing would happen to either of them.

Calum’s fingers worked over his face gently, pushing on the bruises to see how deep they were, and putting plaster on the little cuts.

“You are a piece of work, Mikey.” He whispers, his breath smells of apples and mint.

“I know.” Michael responded, smiling brightly at his friend.

“Did you ice yesterday? For all we know, you could have a concussion, you hit your head pretty hard.” Calum said, all concerned like...like a mother. Michael looked up at him curiously, and shook his head.

“I don’t have a concussion, Cal. I can still see and I’m not dizzy or anything. I’m fine.” He said, and Calum rolled his eyes.

“Still. Ice it.” He said sternly, and Michael nodded.

“I will.” He said, standing up again. “How do you know about all of this anyway?”

Calum shrugged.

“Just do. Maybe I paid more attention in Health than you did.” He said cheekily, and Michael nodded.

“Yeah, you definitely did.” He smiled, walking out of the bathroom. Calum followed behind faithfully, and they ended up in Michael’s kitchen, making dinner as the sun set.

Michael liked nights like this. He didn’t mind being alone usually, but he figures that’s because he never knew what it was like to not be alone. His parents were around when he was younger, but ever since he turned 15, he’d been mostly on his own. He just got used to only a couple lights in the house being on, and he got used to the quiet, and he got used to the only company he had being his television. But, when Calum came around, and they hung out and made dinner, well...it made Michael wonder what it would be like to be less lonely all the time.

They made salad, cutting up lettuce that Sadie had bought last week. Michael wouldn’t even have thought to use that if Calum hadn’t been there...in fact, he didn’t even know it was there.

“What the fuck? I definitely didn’t ask Sadie for rabbit food.” He said, raising an eyebrow at Calum, who was turning on Michael’s speakers.

“Uh-huh.” Calum confirmed. “I did.”

Michael rolled his eyes.

“I swear, you two are closer than she and I are.” He says, throwing the bag of greens on the counter.

He was digging out a bowl for the stupid salad when Calum finally picked a song to cook to. Michael straightened up, raising an eyebrow at Calum.

“What?” The pretty boy asked sheepishly.

“No.” He said, shaking his head. Calum didn’t budge, just crossed his arms.

“What?” He asked innocently.

“C’mon, Cal, what the hell is this?” Michael asked, gesturing to the music. Calum turned around, jutting his hip in a sassy manner.

“This is Halsey, asshole, and we’re listening to it.” He threw, opening the bag of rabbit food.

“Halsey? The chick with the blue hair? Cal, c’mon, I don’t do drug music.” He begged.

“It’s not drug...well I guess it kind of is. We’re listening to it, I don’t care what you say, we listen to your music all the time.”

“That’s because we both agree on it! You love Green Day!”

“That’s beside the point.” Calum sassed. “We’re listening to Halsey, and you can just deal with it. Now, bowl please.”

Michael smirked. The Calum he knew when he was young, before all of the crap started, he was still in there, and Michael missed him. Not that he missed the appearance, he just missed the inside.  

He handed Calum the bowl, and started digging around the fridge again whilst Calum chopped all the...leaves. He managed to dig out bacon, and even more of a miracle, he managed to coax Calum into letting him put it in the salad.

Eventually, an hour later, they sat down at Michael’s rarely-used dining table, a plate of salad and bread in front of them. Every Sunday, Sadie made homemade bread, so Calum just stuck it in the microwave and called it good. The Cliffords’ dining room had massive windows in it, and it overlooked the field behind their house. The sun had set, and it was now twilight, a few stars glittering in the sky.

Calum’s stupid music that Michael actually kind of enjoyed even though he’d never tell Calum that was still on in the kitchen, Colors played faintly while the two of them talked and picked at their food. Another thing Michael would never admit to Calum was that dinner was actually really good. He hated when Calum was right, especially when it had to do with...healthy food.

When they were finally finished, and had cleaned up the kitchen, Calum checked his phone, and his face paled a little bit.

“I think that’s it’s time for me to go home.” He said quietly, and Michael nodded.

“You sure you can’t just stay the night?” He asked, even though he knew it was an empty hope.

“Probably not.” Calum said gently, smiling at Michael closed-lips.

“Alright.” Michael said, grabbing Calum’s backpack. “Let’s go then.”

They walked back, one of Michael’s hands intertwined with Calum’s, the other holding the younger’s backpack. Their walk was quiet, as usual, and Michael counted the stars while Calum watched the cracks that he was so carefully stepping over. Michael thought he looked cute, as he always did, that blue sweater hugging his shoulders but falling loose around his tummy. He really did care about Calum, and he hated that he was beaten up so much for being who he is.

“Mikey.”

Michael looked down at Calum, finding himself surprised by Calum’s front steps. The house was a decent size, smaller than Michael’s, but big. The walls were painted a soft blue-gray, and the windows were graced with floral-patterned curtains. Michael had been inside, several times, but he always felt like each time he came to the house, he knew less about what was on the inside.

“Sorry.” Michael said, dropping Calum’s hand. Calum took his hand back slowly, rubbing his palm with his thumb.

“It’s okay.” He said, as Michael handed him his bag. “Are you alright?”

“Mhh. Just thinking.” Michael reassured.

“What about?” Calum asked, slinging the strap of his bag over his shoulder. He stepped onto the first step, so he was a little taller than Michael now.

“Just...all sorts of things.” Michael smiles, burying his hands in his pockets. Calum gives him a gentle smile, and looks at his front door slowly.

“Well, uhm, I better get inside. Sleep and all.” He says, and Michael nods. Even though they’ve been through this process what seems like hundreds of times, Michael always gets the feeling he’s dropping off his date when he leaves Calum on his doorstep in the dark. It may or may not have something to do with the butterflies he always feels in his gut when he says goodbye after long nights.

“Yeah.” He sighs out. “I guess I’ll uh...see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Calum smiles. “Thanks for everything, Mikey. I don’t know if I could survive without you.”

Calum says it in a joking voice, but Michael knows the weight that statement carries. He’s one of the only things that keeps Calum strong, with all the hate he gets at school, honestly, Michael is a little surprised that the only damage he’s received is just becoming quiet and a little more secluded. Michael knows that if the roles were reversed, he would’ve offed himself already because he’s not as strong as Calum. He’d be selfish, and leave Calum all on his own.

When Michael thinks about it, he didn’t know if he could survive without Calum either.

“Hey, you made me food. I think this was a good night.” He says, because he doesn’t know how to say all the words he just thought. Calum smiles, and goes to open his door.

“It was a good night.” Calum confirms, his hand on the handle. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Michael smiles as Calum walks into his house. When the door is shut tightly, he turns, and walks home in the dark, counting the stars on his own.


	3. Magenta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING**  
> Hey guys!!!  
> Heavy trigger warning for this chapter for mentions of attempted rape. :(  
> Also, I know I kind of go off on a tangent about Mr. Feldmann, but his character is important.  
> Love you all, hope you enjoy!!  
> XX-Alex

“Today, we’re going into something relatively basic, but if you’re going to be in music, you have to know how to do it.” 

Michael rolled his eyes as Mr. Feldmann stood up from his desk, and went to stand in the half-circle the chairs in the room were making. Michael wasn’t sure where he got the chairs, but they were scratched and wooden, and he was pretty sure he had a few splinters in his arse. 

“Today we’re learning how to count.” 

Almost everyone groaned. 

“Ah, so I assume most of you know what I’m talking about, yes?” He says with a sly smile. 

“We’ve all taught ourselves how to count by now. Just because we haven’t had a music class before doesn’t mean we’re stupid.” Michael threw out. 

Mr. Feldmann turned to Michael, who was sitting on the very end of the half-circle, closest to the door. Michael looked his normal self, black jeans and a limited edition Slipknot shirt with a little hole near his collarbone. He could imagine what he looked like through Mr. Feldmann’s eyes. 

“I never said that.” He said quietly, giving Michael an intense look. Michael just rolled his eyes, and broke contact. Mr. Feldmann looked pleased with himself. 

“Anyway, as I was saying before I was interrupted by the barbarian on the end here,” 

Mr. Feldmann got back to his lesson, and everyone in the room laughed at his joke about Michael. Michael himself furrowed his eyebrows in anger, and leaned back in his seat. It’s fine. He’ll just add Mr. Feldmann’s name to the list of assholes he deals with daily. 

He was stupid to have hoped for anything different. 

Michael was drawn from his loathing thoughts by chilly fingers grabbing his wrist. Michael looked up at Calum, who today was wearing light denim skinny jeans and what suspiciously looked a lot like Michael’s second favorite Blink shirt, along with a blue flannel over the top. His cheeks had contour on them, and his eyes were graced with silver eyeliner and mascara, with a hint of lilac eye shadow. He looked pretty as he always did, and Michael found himself distracted by the way his lashes looked when he blinked. 

Calum sent Michael a heart-felt look, and Michael raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Don’t judge him yet, Mikey.” He whispered out, and...god dammit. 

Calum just makes things so hard and so right at the same time. 

“Why? He’s being an asshole.” 

“So are you.” Calum said, and Michael huffed. 

“That’s wonderful to know Calum, thank you so much.” He says sassily. He turns away from Calum, thoroughly annoyed, but he undoubtedly feels better when Calum slips his cool fingers from his wrist to his hand, squeezing his palm slightly before pulling his hand back into his lap. 

Fuck Calum and his soft hands. 

Michael kind of wants to tell Calum off for telling him what to do, but at the same time, he wants to hold his younger friend’s hand, so he sits back and reluctantly listens to what Feldmann has to say. 

Despite his attitude, Michael doesn’t actually know much the technical part of music. He knows that there are measures, and beats, and he knows what sounds good, but that’s about it. 

He actually learns a lot, and by the time class is over, he feels good. Calum is smiling to himself like no one's looking at him, and Michael loves that. He never sees Calum smile in school. 

“Hey,” Michael says, butting Calum with his elbow. Calum looks up from his own little memory, giving Michael his attention. 

“Thanks.” Michael says, and he doesn’t have to explain, Calum gets it. He gives Michael a bright smile, almost too bright for Calum. 

“You’re welcome. I think...I think he may be on our side.” Calum says slowly, because he knows that this is a sensitive topic. 

“I don’t.” Michael huffs. “He called me a barbarian.” 

Calum shrugs, dodging past some Year 9. 

“You were acting like one.” 

“Calum.” Michael whines. 

“Look,” Calum says when they reach their next class.”yesterday, on my walk back, I saw him chewing Jackson out. All I’m saying is that that group of boys doesn’t have him wrapped around their fingers.” 

Michael sighs, sending Calum a hesitant look. 

“Calum, I know how much you want someone else. You know how much I want someone else, but...I don’t know if he’s it.” He says slowly, and he can see the way Calum’s face falls, and he kind of hates himself. “I’m not saying he isn’t. I just don’t want you to put your hope into him before we know for sure.” 

Calum looks up at Michael, and gives him a weak smile. 

Michael sees right through it, and he knows the damage he’s done. He needs to be there for Calum, support his decisions. He is not his to boss around. 

Calum turns, and walks into the lesson, brushing past Max and Brendan, who whistle lowly at him until they realize Michael is accompanying him. 

“Fuck off, he’s not a piece of meat.” He hisses at them, and Max, Calum’s very first offender, chuckles dryly. 

“Might as well be.” 

Michael itches to punch him in the face, but Brendan touches his friend’s shoulder, and shoots him a look. Brendan isn’t Michael’s ally, just look at what happened yesterday, but Michael still nods at him as he walks back with Calum. 

Calum is quiet in his seat, taking out his book and notebook. This isn’t Calum quiet, not the regular silence that Michael has grown with, this is almost...aggressive silence. Calum is angry with him. Michael thinks that if he asked Calum something, he wouldn’t get an answer. 

“Cal,” He says, and Calum doesn’t answer. 

“Calum.” He says again, and Calum still doesn’t answer. 

“Calum.” He says, louder this time, and Calum looks up, a well manicured eyebrow raised in annoyance. 

Michael knows not to push him. He just smiles at his younger friend until he turns away, and starts to open his book with a tint scowl on his face. Michael feels bad, but he knows this won’t last forever. He’s way too damn charming for Calum to ignore forever. 

Turns out though, Calum can and will ignore him. He ignores him for the entire class period, and the one after that. Michael tries everything from saying Calum’s name over and over,  to poking him with a pencil, to even intertwining their fingers. Nothing works. Calum doesn’t talk to him, in fact, he hardly looks at him. All he does is squeeze Michael’s fingers back almost reluctantly when Michael tries to hold his hand. 

Michael had come to the conclusion that Calum would never talk to him again after school at his locker, waiting for him, and the boy didn’t show. He didn’t want to rush him, so Michael just waited for half an hour, watching as the halls emptied until it was was just him. Just as Michael was deciding that Calum had gone home already, the boy came around the corner, running for him breathlessly. Michael caught him easily, dropping his bag on the floor in favour of letting him crash into his chest. 

“Hey,” He says, his hands latching onto Calum’s elbows. Calum doesn’t say anything, just shakes in Michael’s grasp. He’s not crying, Michael can tell, but he’s trembling, and Michael’s never seen him like this before. He strokes a hand down Calum’s back, and furrows his eyebrows, confused on why Calum is so scared. 

His answer comes barrelling around the corner. 

There’s three of them, that’s what Michael registers first. The fact that there are three of them automatically fills Michael with insane rage. Calum can hardly fend off one of those boys, whose muscles are tight and strong due to intense football practices that Michael used to watch from the side with a cigarette, cursing all of the athletes. Going three on one is just ridiculous. 

The second thing Michael sees is that Jackson, who is in front of the other two, has blue material bunched in his fist. Even from far away, with Calum’s hair in his face, Michael can see what it is. It’s a flannel. Calum’s flannel. Michael looks down, looking at Calum’s bare shoulders. One of the sleeves of his shirt is ripped, exposing his skin. 

The third thing Michael realizes is who is behind Jackson. It’s Max, Michael’s probably least favourite person in the whole school, and then...Brendan. 

Michael tries not to be hurt by that. He knows that they’re all the same, but after today in class, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was different. He should have known better. 

Michael squares his jaw, and glares at all three of them. Jackson looks surprised, like he wouldn’t think Michael would be there. Fucking idiot. Like he’d leave without Calum. Max is smirking, his eyes shamelessly rolling over Calum’s still-trembling body. Max had been the one to start all of this, and Michael definitely hates him the most. It’s a little challenging to hate a follower, but hating a leader is the easiest thing in the world. Finally, Brendan looks scared. He realizes that they’ve made a mistake, and he looks afraid of Michael. 

Michael thinks he looks a little ashamed too. 

Michael glares at them, and begins to unwrap his arms from Calum’s shaking shoulders. But, Calum clings tighter to him, his small hands fisting Michael’s shirt. 

“Don’t.” Calum whines, his face buried in Michael’s chest. “Please, don’t go.” 

Michael’s heart breaks a little bit with how scared Calum is. He squeezes Calum tighter, and looks back at the trio. Jackson and Max are smirking, the former leaning on the door frame. Brendan looks hesitant, almost backing away. 

“Funny seeing you here, Clifford.” Jackson says cockily. Michael tightens one of his fists. “Could have sworn the school was empty. This little loner took so fucking long talking to that weird ass teacher I thought the doors would lock soon.” 

The hand rubbing Calum’s back stops, and Michael takes a second to think. Calum had been talking to Mr. Feldmann instead of being with him. Mr. Feldmann was what the whole silent-treatment had been about anyway. 

“You’re an idiot for thinking I’d leave him alone.” Michael spits at him. Jackson smirks. 

“I heard you and the little bitch were in a fight. Weird. Didn’t know he had it in him.” Jackson says, walking closer to the two of them. Michael stands strong. 

“You know he does.” 

“Really?” Max laughs. Michael thought that people like him only occur in movies. “I’ve never seen him put up much of a fight when it comes to me.” 

Max is coming closer, until he’s only a few feet from Michael, smiling maniacally at the boy pressed to Michael in fear. Michael manhandles Calum until he’s pressed to the lockers behind him, putting his body between him and Max. 

“You’re fucking insane.” Michael says, stepping closer to Max. He can’t get in a fight now. Not when Calum so obviously needs him. He wouldn’t be able to take on all three anyway. 

“What’s it like?” Max asks, stepping into Michael’s space, talking right in his ear. “What does he feel like? Pretty little thing, wrapped around your cock, begging, screaming for more?” 

Michael shoves him. Shoves him so hard he falls to the floor. Michael drops down onto his knees, and straddles his body, gripping the collar of his shirt. 

“I’ve put you in the hospital once before, Vetch. Don’t think I won’t happily do it again.” He says, and just like that, he’s punching Max. Just once, straight to the nose, making Max cry out, and fall to the ground. Michael sniffs, satisfied as he stands up. 

He looks at Jackson, who is scowling, and at Brendan, who still looks nervous. 

“Either of you have something to say?” He asks, standing closer to Calum, who won’t look up. Just stands with his back pressed to Michael’s locker, both his arms wrapped around himself as he shakes whilst staring at the floor. 

“I’ve got plenty of things to say.” Jackson says, starting towards Michael. Michael doesn’t care, he’s ready. Jackson is never touching Calum again. Not while he’s here. 

“That little piece of ass you’re protecting back there, he belongs to us, not you.” He says, and Michael glares even harder while Max is still writhing in pain. 

“He doesn’t  _ belong  _ to anyone. He’s a human being, with feelings, with memory, one that experiences pain.” He says, walking closer to Jackson, meeting him halfway. “He’ll remember what you do to him, he’ll remember forever. I know you won’t, because you don’t possess even a shred of dignity or conscience, but he will. One day when he’s grown up, and has found someone who loves him for who he is, and touches him with his permission, and his permission only, he’ll remember you...and everything you did to him. So will I.” 

Jackson takes in his little spiel, and for a second, Michael thinks he’s scared, thinks that his words had a profound effect, but all Jackson does is laugh. He laughs, and then laughs again, and Michael wants to punch him. And he’s going to, but then Jackson is moving away from him. Brendan is pulling at his friend’s’ shoulder, pulling him away from Michael. 

“Jackson, c’mon, let’s just go, he’s not...not worth it.” Brendan says, looking at Michael hesitantly. 

Jackson scowls at his friend, and stares at Michael, but eventually decides to let it go, and he lets Brendan pull him away. 

Michael backs off, watching at the two of them help Max stand up, and with one final aggressive insult, the trio leaves, Brendan looking over his shoulder cautiously as he all-but runs out. Michael watches until he’s sure they’re gone. He walks to where they had been standing, and picks up the ripped and dirty flannel from where Jackson had dropped it. He goes back, to where Calum is, shrunk down to the floor, his knees pulled to his chest, his head buried on top of them. Michael drops to his knees, watching Calum shake.

“Calum.” He says gently, but Calum doesn’t respond. At first, Michael thinks it’s because he’s still giving him the silent treatment, but Michael realizes when Calum lifts his head up that it’s because he’s crying. Quiet, almost silent sobs wrack his body as tears stream down his face. 

“Oh, Calum, Jesus.” Michael says, reaching for the younger. Calum looks hesitant, like a cornered animal, but he comes to Michael regardless, crawling gently into his arms. 

“Shh.” Michael says, rubbing Calum’s back as the smaller boy cries into his shoulder. “I know. I’m so sorry.” 

Calum shakes his head, and his arms come to wrap around Michael’s waist, holding onto him tightly. 

“‘S not your fault.” Calum hiccups out, pushing his nose into Michael’s neck. Michael doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he just holds Calum tighter, closing his eyes and rocking the two of them slightly. 

Michael holds him for a long time, just sitting on the floor of his school with Calum held tightly in his arms. Calum’s quiet gasps echo in the empty hallways, and Michael can’t help but to think how pretty the sound is. It’s sad, but everything Calum does is pretty, even his sounds of anguish. Michael runs his hands through the back of Calum’s hair, and hums sweetly against his temple. 

Eventually, the younger boy stops crying. He stops seemingly all at once, the sobs going completely silent, the tears disappearing. He’s still shaking, but Michael gets the feeling that he’ll be shaking for a long time. He rests his head on Michael’s shoulder, more or less limp. He’s calmed down. Michael kisses his forehead in reward for doing so.  

“Do y’wanna go home?” He whispers, and Calum shakes his head. “No?” 

“No. But I have to.” Calum says weakly. Michael frowns at this. 

“C’mon.” Michael says, standing up, pulling Calum with him. Michael holds onto his waist, and looks over him. 

This time, there’s evidence. The zipper of Calum’s jeans is down, and the sleeve of his shirt is ripped, as before mentioned. Plus, there are bruises. They haven’t really had the chance to develop, but Michael can still see the beginnings of them. Bright red marks on his wrists, where someone was obviously holding him. There’s a tiny cut on his cheek, Michael suspects it’s from being pushed against the sharp edge of a locker. Those are only the things he can see. 

He’s sure that there’s bruises on his back, and probably, Michael thinks with absolute sickness, on his hips. Plus, he can’t see the damage that they’re doing on the inside. Calum very rarely cries when it comes to kids at school, but this...Michael isn’t sure how to handle Calum crying so heavily. This must have been emotionally scarring. He meant what he had said to Jackson. 

“Calum,” He says, cupping his cheek. “what happened?” 

Calum shakes his head, looking away from Michael. Michael nods, and decides he won’t push. It’s not his place. He just rubs Calum’s cheek bone before he grabs his backpack off the floor. 

“I’m sorry I ignored you.” Calum says, taking Michael’s hand when he offers it. 

“Don’t be. I deserved it.” Michael shrugs. “I was being an asshole. I was going to tell you that even though I don’t agree with it, I stand by your choice. If you want to trust this guy, then I’m with you.” 

Calum nods, but doesn’t smile or tell Michael that he’s right. Just nods, and walks with Michael towards the doors. Michael keeps walking, tugging Calum with him. He hates the crestfallen look on his face, and he wishes more than anything that he could make him smile. He pulls out his phone, as well as his headphones, and scrolls through his music app. When he finally finds the album he wants to play, he put one headphone in his ear, offers Calum the other. Calum takes it gingerly, placing it in his ear. 

When the music comes, Michael is quick to grab Calum’s hand again, and scan his face as he allows a small smile. The album is Badlands, and Calum knows. He knows Michael downloaded it because he liked it, because it’s Calum’s favourite. 

They listen to Halsey sing as they walk back, hand in trembling hand as the sun sets. Michael starts to think that this might be his favourite part of the day. Being with his favourite person, watching the sun set. Even if the circumstances are shitty. 

When they’re a couple blocks from Calum’s, the sun has gone down completely, and the stars are out. Michael watches Calum count them, and while he’s distracted, tosses the blue flannel over his shoulders. Calum gives him a grateful smile, and disconnects their hands so that he can slip the flannel on completely. 

“Are you going to be okay?” Michael asks when they get to Calum’s house. Calum nods, and Michael is intrigued by the way his mascara is smeared down his cheeks. 

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” He says softly, and Michael knows he’s lying. It was a stupid question to ask in the first place. He doesn’t know what happened for sure, but whatever it was will take Calum a while to get over. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to spend the night at my house?” Michael asks, looking over Calum’s bruised wrists. Calum nods, but this time, he offers Michael a smile. This one looks genuine. 

“Yeah. I’m sure. Thank you though.” 

Michael bites his lip. He doesn’t want to leave yet, and he still has things that he needs to say to Calum. 

“You um...you should tell your parents about this.” He says cautiously. They don’t bring up Calum’s parents. They just don’t. Michael has only ever met Calum’s mother, at a school concert when they were in sixth grade. She was nice enough, but she stumbled around, and even at twelve years old, Michael could smell the alcohol on her. Calum had been absolutely red with shame, and he wouldn’t look Michael in the eye. 

Michael wondered about Calum’s parents, he wondered if Calum even had a father sometimes. Michael just stopped asking questions when the third set of parent-teacher conferences came around, and not only his parents, but Calum’s parents didn’t show. Michael had Sadie, and he vaguely remembered a pretty girl with long hair and bronze skin like Calum’s showing up for him. Michael wonders where she went. He wonders why she left. 

“Mikey.” Calum says, and his tone makes Michael face reality. They’re on their own. Always have been. 

“I just...I think that it might be a good idea.” He says sheepishly, and Calum stares at him for a long time. His gaze is almost sympathetic, and it makes Michael want to punch a hole in the wall. He doesn’t need Calum to look at him like he knows better, because he does, but he’s saying it anyway. 

“Okay, Michael. I will.” He says with a tone of finality, and Michael automatically feels guilty. He hates when Calum calls him Michael. He hates it, he hates it, he hates it. 

“Calum,” He says, reaching for Calum, who is going to open his door. “c’mon, you know what I mean.” 

“Michael.” Calum says, his tone almost snappy. “I’ll tell them, okay? Maybe you should just go home.” 

Michael reels back, a little shocked. Calum’s still shaking a little bit, and he looks desperate. Michael tries not to be hurt by his tone, because he knows that Calum is just upset, and he feels cornered by Michael. So, he backs down. He steps off the concrete steps, and bites his lip. 

“Yeah. I um...right. I have homework and stuff.” He says, and Michael knows that Calum knows that he’s lying. He never does homework. The pretty boy nods nonetheless. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Michael says, and he doesn’t wait for Calum to respond, just turns and walks. He can hear Calum sigh, and open the door to his house. Michael tries to ignore the dread filling his stomach.


	4. Coral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!  
> I know this story is off to a slow start, but that's how I wrote it. We have a ways to go before Luke is even introduced. Ha. Sorry.   
> Anyway, please hang in there, guys!! I love this story, and I promise it'll get better :)   
> Enjoy!!  
> XX-Alex

The next day, Calum doesn’t show up. 

Michael’s immediate impulse is to be worried. Calum very, very rarely misses school. He just doesn’t. 

He sits in English uneasily, thinking that maybe Calum was just running late. But, thirty minutes in, Calum still hadn’t showed up, and Michael knew he wasn’t coming. 

It worried him greatly, he felt weird without Calum by his side. Max shot him a look from where he was sitting, Michael was pleased to see his eye completely black. Max looked murderous, but also a little confused. He nodded to Calum’s desk, and Michael just flipped him off. 

When English ended, Michael decided that school without Calum wasn’t worth it, and so he ditched. He left school, walking straight out of the doors. No one tried to stop him, and Michael was happy about that. He just left school, and didn’t come back until after lunch. He needed to have a chat with a certain teacher. 

Mr. Feldmann was talking animatedly when he got in. There were twenty minutes of class left, so Michael just waited outside, counting the bricks in the wall, thinking about where Calum was. He hadn’t answered any of Michael’s texts, but Michael figured that it was just because the pretty boy was still angry with him. 

Eventually, the bell rang, and people came trampling through Mr. Irwin’s door, talking and laughing with each other happily. Michael kind of hated them. When they were all gone, and the halls were thinning, Michael stood up, and walked into the music room. 

Mr. Feldmann was bent over his desk, looking through some sheet music. He looked up when Michael entered, raising an eyebrow. 

“You weren’t in class today.” He says simply, and Michael nods. “Neither was your friend. I’m assuming that’s why you weren’t here.” 

Michael blinks, looking at the older man, and nods. Mr. Feldmann finally puts down his papers, and takes off his glasses, looking over Michael. 

“What can I help you with?” Mr. Feldmann asks, sitting down on his desk. 

“My friend,” 

“Calum.” Mr. Feldmann interrupts, and Michael glares. 

“Yeah. Calum.” Michael says before he continues. “He...he came to see you yesterday, right?” 

Mr. Feldmann nods. 

“What did he see you about?” 

“He told me how gifted you are.” He shrugs. 

“ _ Gifted? _ ” Michael asks, surprised. 

“He says that you have some sort of...sixth sense about music.” Mr. Feldmann says blankly. 

“Did he tell you about his?” Michael asks, and Mr. Feldmann shakes his head. 

“No. I figured that out on my own.” Mr. Feldmann says. “But you...you’re a surprise.” 

“Yeah, it’s because I don’t. I’m not gifted at all. I don’t know what he’s talking about.” Michael insists. 

“He seems convinced. He said that even though you act like a total imbecile that you’re actually musically ept and extremely creative.” Mr. Feldmann shrugs. 

“He said that? About me?” Michael asks, he’s surprised that Calum talked so much to a stranger. Mr. Feldmann nods. 

“Yes. He seems incredibly...fond of you.” Mr. Feldmann says slowly, like he doesn’t quite understand. Michael doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t understand either. 

“Well.” Michael says, clearing his throat. He feels a little awkward. “He’s wrong. I’m not talented.” 

Mr. Feldmann raises an eyebrow. 

“Do you sing?” 

“No. Not ever.” Michael lies. 

“Calum says you do. He says that you sing beautifully.” 

Michael makes a face. 

“I...I don’t know what to say about that.” He says eventually. 

Mr. Feldmann sighs. 

“Look, Michael. I don’t really care what you do. Come to my class, or don’t. You can lie about having talent, I don’t care. But Calum is a good kid. Don’t drag him down with your rebellious, hopeless little hurricane. He deserves better.” He says, and holy shit, Michael has never, ever been so angry. 

“How  _ dare _ you.” Michael says, tightening his fist on the strap of his bag. 

“Excuse me?” Mr. Feldmann asks. He looks unimpressed.

“Calum is my best friend. I wouldn’t  _ ever  _ do anything to hurt him.” Michael scowls. 

“I’m not saying you would. All I’m saying is that he follows you, and I don’t want him falling into some inescapable pit of teenage misery.” Mr. Feldmann says. 

“Calum is strong enough to stand for himself. He makes his own choices. And I am  _ not  _ stuck in an inescapable pit of ‘teenage misery’. I don’t need you to tell me that my life is ruined, because it isn’t. And Calum’s certainly isn’t. So back the hell off.” He says, turning to leave. “And don’t you dare tell me that he deserves better. Because I know he does. He deserves the entire world, and trust me, if I could get it for him, I would. I would trade my friendship with him any day if it meant he gets what he deserves.” 

With that, Michael is leaving, storming out of the music room, without waiting for Mr. Feldmann to say anything. He’s angry.  _ So  _ angry. Calum thought that Mr. Feldmann would be different, and he is...for Calum anyway. 

Michael will never earn that luxury. 

 

-

 

Michael gets a phone call that night. 

It comes at 2:48 a.m., and he just about kills himself trying to get it in his sleepy haze. Without looking at the screen, Michael accepts it, mumbling a dazed ‘hello’ in the speaker. What he gets in return makes his sleepiness dissolve. 

“Mikey?” 

Michael sits up in bed, pressing his back against the headboard. 

“Hey, Cal. Everything okay?” He asks, yawning slightly. 

“Yeah.” Calum says, and then he sniffs, catching Michael’s attention. “Everything’s good. Just wanted to talk.” 

“Alright.” Michael says softly. “I’m here.” 

Michael hears Calum take a shaky breath, and then lets out a weak laugh. 

“Thanks.” He says, and Michael understands. He knows that Calum is thankful, and he knows what for. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“You didn’t.” Michael lies easily. 

“Mikey, you know you can’t lie to me. You’ve never been able to.” Calum says, his voice happy. “I can hear you yawning.” 

“That’s not yawning, that’s just my...dog.” 

“You don’t have a dog.” 

“Shut up.” Michael whines, and he hears Calum laugh. It’s genuine and beautiful. 

“How was school?” Calum asks, and Michael sighs. Calum will be so disappointed if he knows that he skipped. 

“It was good. Max asked where you were.” 

“Mikey, again, you can’t lie to me.“ Calum says, and Michael sighs. 

“I went to first period. She didn’t give us any homework. I also went and saw Mr. Irwin.” He says. 

“Why?” 

“I just wanted to chat.” Michael says indifferently. 

“Mikey.” Calum says in a motherly tone. 

“What? I just asked him some questions.” Michael says sheepishly, and he can  _ hear  _ Calum roll his eyes. 

“How’d it go then?” 

“I heard you told him some lies about me.” 

“I didn’t.” Calum says easily. 

“You did. I’m not gifted, Calum Hood.” Michael points out. 

“You’re so dumb sometimes, Michael.” Calum says, and Michael doesn’t like his tone. 

“Um, excuse me?” 

“Dumb. You’re dumb sometimes.” Calum says again. 

“I’m not!” Michael whines. 

“You’re gifted you idiot. I’ve been listening to you sing forever. It’s beautiful. Don’t lie to yourself.” Calum says, and that makes Michael be quiet. 

“You think...you think it’s beautiful?” Michael asks slowly. 

“Yes.” Calum says softly. “And I’m kind of an expert on beauty.” 

“Yes, you are.” Michael responds. They’re quiet for a second, and Michael thinks Calum might be blushing. 

“Why are you so good to me?” 

“I could ask you the same thing.” Michael says with a dry chuckle. 

“I’m not good to you.” Calum says, and Michael scoffs. 

“Please, Cal. Do you think anyone else could deal with my bullshit for so long? Laugh at my jokes?” He pauses for a second. “Help fill my empty house?” 

Calum is quiet for second, and Michael smiles. 

“You do all that stuff. I wouldn’t be anywhere without you.” He says. 

“I love you a lot, Mikey. I hope you know that.” Calum says after a long pause, and his tone is much, much too serious for Michael to handle. 

“I do know that.” Michael whispers, and Calum sighs in content. “I don’t even need to say it to you.” 

“Will you?” Calum asks, his voice is small and weak. It hurts Michael to hear. “I just...I want to hear it. Please.” 

“I love you, Calum.” He says quietly. It’s nothing new, he’s said it hundreds of times, but Michael always feels a sting in his chest when he says it. Calum all but begs to hear him say it, and Michael doesn’t like that. Calum should be told everyday that he’s loved, because he is. He deserves to be. And that’s when it hits Michael. 

“Thanks.” Calum says, letting go of a long-held breath. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t be, it’s okay.” Michael soothes. They’re quiet for a second. Michael doesn’t mind the silence, but he wants to fill it. 

“Did I tell you, Cal, that I get my car back tomorrow? It’s finally fixed.” 

Calum laughs, and starts to talk about where they’re going to go in Michael’s car, and how they’re not going to run into any more trees. Michael listens, because he doesn’t get to hear Calum’s voice enough. He listens to him, but as he talks, he thinks. He thinks about Mr. Irwin, and what he said. Michael knows that he’s wrong. 

Calum doesn’t need the world. 

Calum just needs him. 

_ He’s  _ what Calum deserves, and Michael feels incredibly stupid for just now realizing that. 


	5. Azure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!  
> This chapter was kinda awkward to write, so just a heads up!  
> This chapter also has a trigger warning fro detailed mentions of attempted-rape. I'm sorry things are moving so slowly, but I promise it's worth it, hang in there, guys!!!  
> Please, please, please let me know if y'all dig this story, I am a complete COMMENT WHORE so lay it on thick!!  
> Lots of love, as always!!  
> XX-Alex

Calum doesn’t come back to school until Monday. 

He answered Michael’s texts over the weekend, but Michael didn’t receive any more late-night phone calls. The empty house mocked him all weekend, and without Calum there, Michael felt ridiculously lonely, so needless to say, when Monday approached, he was more than ready to go back to school. 

He picked Calum up in is freshly-repaired car, and smiled when the younger boy ran his painted nails down the hood. The nails were black now. 

“Looking good.” Calum said as he climbed into the car. 

“Thanks. I know I do.” Michael said proudly as he put the car in gear. 

“I was talking about the car.” Calum says with a sassy little eyeroll. 

“No you weren’t.” Michael says cockilly, and Calum’s rolling his eyes again, but more out of fondness than anything else. Michael kind of loves him. 

He pulls out of Calum’s driveway, watching the curtains of the dining room wave slightly, like there was a fan on inside. Michael doesn’t know why he’s thinking about it. 

“How was your weekend?” He asks, just like he does every Monday. 

“It was good.” Calum says with a small smile. Michael doesn’t know why he feels jealous, like the thought of Calum doing something good without him makes him angry. He lets it go quickly, because behavior like that is selfish and unacceptable. 

“Yeah? What’d you do?” Michael asks, and his hand feels weird on the steering wheel, like it should be touching something else. 

“Just watched movies at home. Nothing special.” He shrugs, nonchalant. Michael wonders if he’s lying. 

“Oh. Nice.” He says with a smile, turning onto the main road to school. 

Michael lets Calum plug his phone into the sound system, and unsurprisingly, it’s Green Day that comes through the speakers. Michael rolls his eyes. 

“Do you listen to anything else?” He asks him, and Calum sticks his tongue out at him. 

“Do  _ you _ ?” He asks, and Michael thinks he definitely has a point. 

“I listen to you.” He says, and Calum scoffs. 

“Well, my voice is  _ much  _ less annoying that yours.” He says with a smirk. 

“God, you  _ are  _ a pain.” He says, but he doesn’t mean it, so Calum sticks his tongue out at him again, and the rest of their ride is silent. 

Michael parks his car carefully when they get to school, he doesn’t want to hurt it again. He steps out, and so does Calum, and they begrudgingly walk in together. 

“I came to school on Friday, just so you know.” Michael says, walking through the door behind Calum. 

“That’s wonderful.” Calum says, and Michael can tell, he’s already gone into his shell. His voice is quieter, and his smile isn’t quite so bright. Michael hates it. 

They walk through the halls, stopping first at Michael’s locker, and then his to collect their books. Luckily, they don’t see any of the normal meatheads, and most of the other people don’t look twice at them. 

Calum used to steal a lot of attention from guys and girls alike, but no one looks anymore. They’ve all gotten used to it. They’re invisible. Michael doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

After Calum collects all the things he needs from his locker, they set off, heading in the direction of English. They pass Jackson on the way, the douche bag has his arm around his girlfriend’s waist, whispering something in her ear. Michael thinks it’s disgusting. He knows the girl, he used to be friends with her a long time ago. Michael wishes he could tell her what her boyfriend does when she’s not around. 

Calum stiffens next to him upon seeing Jackson, but Michael is quick to wrap an arm around his shoulders, and keep him moving. The last thing they need is seeing how much of an effect Jackson had on Calum. 

“C’mon. It’s alright.” He whispers in Calum’s ear. The younger exhales slowly, but goes with Michael easily, blinking quickly like he’s in shock. 

They manage to make it to the bathroom in one piece, and Michael pulls Calum in, locking the door firmly behind them. Calum swallows roughly, staring right past Michael to the wall. He’s trembling again, his arms gripping each other for support. 

Michael drops his bag, and takes one of Calum’s hands. They’re cold. 

“Hey,” He says gently, looking into Calum’s eyes. “Calum.” 

Calum doesn’t seem to hear him, he keeps staring at the wall, and his breathing is getting quicker. 

“Cal, please look at me mate.” He whispers, and Calum slowly rolls his eyes over to him. 

“You’re alright, okay? I’m here, nothing will happen to you as long as I’m here.” He says, hoping Calum is listening. 

“Jackson...he-” Calum says, almost in a trance. He looks lost, confused, and scared. 

“Jackson is awful, Calum. Nothing he did was okay.” Michael says, squeezing Calum’s fingers in assurance. 

“He said that I wanted it.” Calum whispers out, blinking again. Michael shakes his head. “What if he’s right?” 

Michael shakes his head again. 

“He’s not, Calum. That’s something psychopaths say to themselves feel better.” He insists. 

“But...sometimes, sometimes I think maybe it’s not so bad.” Calum says, in a tiny, tiny voice. Michael feels broken. “Sometimes it even...feels good.” 

Michael closes his eyes, and his grip on Calum tightens. 

“No, Calum, you know it doesn’t.” He says, and Calum looks ashamed. 

“But it does.” He says slowly. “I know it’s not supposed to, but it does sometimes.” 

Michael doesn’t know what to say. He’s not equipped to handle this. But, he’s the only thing Calum’s got. 

“It’s okay.” He says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Calum looks at him helplessly. 

“What’s wrong with me?” He asks, and Michael’s heart breaks all over again. 

“Nothing.” He says. “You’re not the one who’s screwed up, you’re not. They are. They made you think this. You’re so deep in this that you started looking for upsides. “ 

Calum looks like he’s about to cry. 

“Even if it does...it’s okay. It’s supposed to feel that way.” He says quietly. He feels weird, talking about this, but...he doesn’t really have a better option. Calum gives him a cautious look. 

“What?” 

“It’s supposed to feel good when people touch you, you know that.” He says a little awkwardly, and Calum nods slowly. 

“I don’t…” 

“Calum.” Michael says, intertwining their fingers. “Don’t feel ashamed, okay?” 

Calum shakes a little bit. 

“I’m dirty, Mikey.” He whispers, and Michael shakes his head. 

“You’re not.” He says. “You’re beautiful, okay?” 

Calum looks away, but his free hand reaches for Michael. Michael takes it with a small smile. 

“I feel so gross when they touch me.” He says, and Michael nods. They never really talk about it, and Michael thought they never would. 

“I know. I would too.” He says, and he’s not sure that that’s the right thing to say. 

“They…” Calum starts, and his fingers dig into Michael’s hand as the bell rings. 

“Don’t worry. We’ll skip first period. Just talk.” He says, and Calum nods. 

“I wanted to see Mr. Irwin. Just wanted to talk to him...about you. Just wanted to see if you were right, I don’t know. He just seemed like a safe person to talk to.” Calum says, and Michael knows he feels sheepish. 

“Yeah, he does.” Michael says, and he squeezes Calum’s hands to encourage him. 

“He said...he said he had to leave. And so, I left, I didn’t want to bother him anymore. Then I felt so  _ stupid _ because you weren’t there. And then I thought...I thought that I didn’t need you. So I didn’t call or text or anything.” Calum says, blushing a little bit. 

“That’s okay. You don’t.” 

“I do.” Calum nods, tears gather in his eyes. “I do need you. I thought I was alone in the school. Mr. Feldmann had left, and I thought it was just me and some teachers. I went downstairs, to the locker room...I wanted to grab some mascara from my locker, that’s all I wanted.” 

Michael nods. 

“Jackson was first....He came out of nowhere...one second he wasn’t there, and the next he was just  _ standing  _ there, and I didn’t even notice. He...grabbed me. Picked me up, and threw me over his shoulder like I was nothing. He took me to the showers, and closed and locked the door. Max and Brendan were waiting. I struggled, Michael, I screamed and thrashed, and I tried to get away, but there were too many, and I was too weak. I couldn’t fend them off.” 

Michael nods again. 

“I know. It wasn’t fair. Just one of them wouldn’t be fair, but three...they’re just weak, Cal.” He offers. 

“Max, he unzipped my jeans, and started...touching, and then Jackson took off my flannel, and he ripped your shirt when he did it.” Calum says, breathing in heavily. “I...Brendan, they had him hold me down, he looked scared, like he didn’t want to be there. He didn’t hold me very tightly, and I managed to get away from him, he fell back, and I… I ran. They chased me, and I slammed the door in Jackson’s face. Then, I came running for the door, and you...you were there. You know the rest.” 

Michael frowns, and kisses Calum’s left knuckles. 

“I think that if I hadn’t gotten away, they would have...I think Jackson and Max would’ve-” Calum cuts himself off, biting his lip harshly. Michael pulled him to his chest, and held him close. Calum didn’t cry, just breathed in Michael’s scent unevenly. 

“And did you enjoy that?” Michael asks softly. Calum shakes his head. “See? You’re not filthy, Calum.” 

Calum exhales shakily into Michael’s shirt. 

“Hey,” Michael says, weaving his fingers in Calum’s hair, and pulling his head away from his chest. “it’s gonna be okay.” 

Calum smiles weakly. 

“Thank you, Mikey. I’m sorry I’m so…” He frowns. 

“It’s fine. You’re fine.” Michael says, releasing his hold on Calum. Calum gives him a heartfelt look. 

“I don’t know if I’m ready to see them.” He says. 

“I’ll be right with you.” Michael says, and that seems to strengthen Calum’s confidence. 

“Okay.” He says with a smile. Michael likes to see him smile. Michael grabs his bag, and unlocks the bathroom door. Before he opens it, he looks over Calum, who has a light blue t-shirt tucked into a black skater skirt and grey converse. 

“By the way,” He says, opening the door for him. “you look beautiful today.” 

The smile Calum gives him makes the entire thing worth it. 


	6. Mauve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so there's been a bit of a mix-up.  
> The thing is, I originally wrote this story with Ashton as the teacher, but I changed my mind. I went back, and tried to fix all the times I put Irwin in, but apparently I didn't get all of them.  
> So, to clarify: Anytime you guys see "Mr. Irwin," it should be "Mr. Feldmann"  
> Ashton WILL show up in the later chapters.   
> I'm sorry for all the confusion, hope this clears it up, and thank you for reading!!!  
> XX-Alex

If looks could kill, Mr. Feldmann would have dropped dead the second the bell rang. 

Michael was glaring so hard, he was sure that his eyes would pop out of head soon. Calum ignored him, he knew that there was something he was missing. So, he let Michael glare at the teacher the entire class period while he furiously took notes on some movie about a composer they were watching. 

Mr. Feldmann knew Michael was glaring, and he glanced up occasionally, as if to make sure he still was. Michael didn’t care. He would hate Mr. Feldmann until the end of time, and if the only way he could express it was through glaring, then so be it. 

Michael was just thinking of taking a break to spare his face muscles when he felt cool fingers on his arm. He looked up at Calum, who was slipping him a piece of paper. Michael took it without question, and read Calum’s pretty handwriting. 

_ Can we leave after this class? _

Michael raised an eyebrow at his friend, but nodded nonetheless, and some of the tension in Calum’s body seemed to disappear. 

_ Anywhere you want to go? _

Michael passed the note back, still keeping an eye on Mr. Feldmann. He and Calum used to pass notes all the time in middle school, and they often got caught, and their teacher would read the note out loud, which certainly wasn’t helpful for Michael or Calum, who blushed furiously, and ducked down in his seat. People always laughed. Calum took the note, and read it easily, clicking his blue pen. 

_ Pier?  _

He hands it back to Michael, looking nervous. Michael reads it, and his eyebrows furrow. He gives Calum an exasperated look, but Calum retaliates with wide eyes and lips that are borderlining on pouting. Michael sighs and rolls his eyes. 

_ Fine, but on one condition _

Calum smiles brightly when he reads it. 

_ Anything.  _

Michael takes it, and he’s not sure why it’s so easy to read Calum’s swirly handwriting when reading straight, black block lettering gives him migraines that last for hours. Maybe because he reads it so much. Maybe it’s simply because it’s Calum. 

_ You read to me while we’re there _

Calum  _ definitely  _ smiles when he reads this time. Contrary to popular belief that was so deeply rooted in his english teachers, Michael actually liked to read, or at least, he liked stories. It wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t exactly read correctly. He liked books, they just didn’t like him. Calum, however, has been an accelerated reader since he was born basically, and the only reason he isn’t in some sort of advanced english is because of Michael, and he refuses to read in front of strangers. Michael likes hearing Calum’s voice anyway. He felt like this was a good compromise. 

“Deal.” Calum whispers in Michael’s ear with a smile. Michael returns his smile happily, and leans back in his seat. He stops glaring at Mr. Feldmann in favour of watching the clock tick away, waiting for the moment that this stupid class is over. 

It came soon enough, and Michael has never heard a sound more beautiful than the bell. He was the first one to stand up, just about to grab Calum’s hand and sprint out out the door when he heard his name being called. He turned slowly, groaning when he realized it was Mr. Feldmann. 

“Yes?” He asked, still standing with Calum as everyone filed out of the room. 

“If you’re trying to burn a hole in my head by glaring at me, it won’t work.” He said simply, and Michael glared harder. Calum stood behind him nervously, ready to fly out the door. 

“Are you sure?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. Mr. Feldmann smirks. 

“Positive. I’ve tried it before.” He says, and Michael scoffs. 

“Well if that’s all…” Michael says, gripping Calum’s hand, starting to walk out. 

“Mr. Clifford,” Mr. Feldmann  says before Michael can run off. “remember what I said.” 

Michael didn’t respond, just squared his jaw, and flipped Mr. Feldmann off before pulling Calum out the door. He could hear Mr. Feldmann sigh behind him, but he didn’t care, he just kept walking, dodging through other students, aiming for his locker. 

“Michael.” Calum said when they had finally gotten through all the students, and were seated in his car again. 

“Yes?” He asks, turning the key to turn the car on. 

“What did Mr. Feldmann tell you?” He asked as Michael put the car in gear.

“Nothing.” Michael smiles. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t matter.” 

Calum looked unsure, but he didn’t press it, just sat back in his seat as Michael pulled out of the parking lot. He rolled down his window slightly, letting the cool air into the car. Michael shivered a little, but didn’t complain as he turned on the radio. Blink was still on from last night, and Calum hummed along, smiling as they drove through the streets. 

“Why’d you want to skip?” He asks Calum. Calum shrugs.

“I didn’t want to go to the last two classes.” He says, and Michael knows. He knows why Calum didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to see Max and Brendan, not after what happened with Jackson. 

“Hm. Alright.” He says, and he stops at a redlight, and watches as Calum pulls out a book from his bag. 

“What is it today?” He asks. Calum squints at the title, which is peeling off of the book. 

“ _ Perks of Being A Wallflower”  _ Calum says with a smile. Michael nods slowly. 

“I’ve never heard of that before.” He says, and Calum nods. 

“It’s one of my favourites. You’ll love it.” Calum says.

“Good.” Michael says, and then they’re quiet, just soaking up the cool air and the music. It’s a longer drive to the pier, but Michael doesn’t mind, not when Calum’s beside him, smiling in the sun, and singing quietly. 

When they get there, Michael is happy to find no one there. He doesn’t like the pier a whole lot in general, because he almost drowned in the harbor when he was younger when his parents weren’t watching him. Bad memories. 

But also good ones. 

After the car was parked, Calum got out, and all-but ran to the pier, sitting down on the end. Michael chuckled, and followed him out, locking his car on the way. He sat down beside him, his legs swinging over the edge. Calum smiled tipping his head back and inhaling the smell of the sea, letting the wind blow his hair. Michael thought he looked genuinely happy. 

“You owe me.” Michael says, his hands gripping the wood of the pier. Calum gave him a cheeky smile, and tapped the book he’d been carrying. 

“I’m repaying you.” He said, and Michael rolled his eyes. 

He let Calum sit for a few minutes, just enjoying the air, watching the water lap against the posts that held the dock. Michael knew Calum loved the sea. 

When they were younger, just beginning to be good friends, he and Calum would go to the beach and swim for hours. It was back before Calum found who he really was, and still wore swimming trunks. Those used to be really fun days, falling and laughing while they ran through the water, spending the time after eating pizza and smearing aloe on Michael’s burned skin. Things were a lot simpler back then. 

Michael was drawn from his thoughts by Calum, who had opened the book, and was beginning to read. Michael immediately felt soothed. Calum’s voice was sweet, like velvet, and he couldn’t ever get enough. He listened intently as Calum read the story, watching as his lips formed the words with ease. 

Michael was only slightly jealous. 

They stayed for hours, just enjoying each others’ company in their own little paradise. Calum soaked in the sun, and the wind, and the ocean, and Michael soaked in Calum. 

It wasn’t until the sun began to set that they went home begrudgingly. 

Michael didn’t want to return to his empty, dark house and Calum didn’t want to return to whatever awaited him in his own home. Michael didn’t want him to go either. If he could have it his way, he would keep Calum by his side always. 

The drive back was calm, Mayday Parade playing softly through the speakers as Michael drove to Calum’s as slowly as he could. He wasn’t ready for the day to end. Calum twiddles his fingers in his lap, and leaned his head on the cool window, looking out of it with what seemed like longing. 

“You alright?” Michael asked even though he knew the answer. He just wanted to see if Calum would tell the truth. 

“I’m getting better.” Calum said softly. Michael was a little surprised. It had only been a few days, but Calum felt better already apparently. Michael didn’t say anything else, but reached one hand across to grab Calum’s. Calum took it gratefully, and even lifted his knuckles to kiss them softly before setting them back down. 

Michael wondered sometimes if he shouldn’t treat Calum with such affection. He loves Calum, for sure, but as far as he knows, just platonically. He knows that normal platonic friends don’t do what they do. Normal friends don’t call each other at 2 in the morning, or hold another when they cry, or kiss each other's’ knuckles. Then again, however, they aren’t exactly normal. 

Michael tries not to think about it. 

When they get to Calum’s house, the kitchen light is on. Michael can see Calum’s mum inside, leaning on the counter and sipping from a cup. Her hair was a mess, black curls sticking out everywhere, and her nurse scrubs were spotted with stains. Michael felt a weird twist in his stomach at seeing her. He looked over at Calum, who looked rather nervous, looking at the kitchen window. 

“Your mum?” Michael asks, raising an eyebrow. Calum nods. 

“Yeah. I guess she’s home from work early.” Calum said quietly. He didn’t looked scared, much to Michael’s relief, but he did look nervous, which also worried him. 

Michael bit his lip to keep from asking any questions, he knew the unspoken rules. 

“Call me if you need anything, okay?” Michael says as Calum tucks his book back into his bag. “I can be here in less than five minutes.” 

“I know.” Calum smiles. “Thanks for taking me to the pier.” 

“Thanks for reading to me.” Michael says, and he finally realizes that he’s still holding Calum’s hand. He doesn’t move it anyway. 

Calum smiles at him gently. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Calum says, and he opens the door to the car, letting in cool air. Calum gets out, holding his bag, and Michael thinks that it takes him longer than usual to let go of his hand. 

“Yeah. I’ll be here.” Michael smiles, and then Calum is shutting the door, and running up the stairs. Michael watches with curiosity as his best friend inhales deeply before opening the door, and enters the house. 


	7. Viridian

Brendan comes to Michael three days later, on Thursday. 

Calum isn’t at school, he had texted Michael saying he ate something bad the night before and was puking his guts out. Michael told him he didn’t want details. He would have ditched school, for sure, if it hadn’t been for Calum’s plea to go and  _ learn _ . Michael thought learning was a scam. 

Brendan came to him at lunch, while he was sitting under a tree, smoking a cigarette. Calum hated cigarettes, and so Michael very rarely had the chance to smoke one. He took his opportunity when he had it. Michael raised an eyebrow as he approached, looking over him and his jeans and sweater judgmentally. 

“Can I help you?” He asks, cigarette hanging loosely off his bottom lip. 

Brendan looks nervous, and also a little sheepish. 

“Um, yeah.” He says, his hands fisted somewhat nervously in his jeans. Michael raises an eyebrow, and flicks off some of his ash. 

“With what?” He snaps. 

“Your boyfriend, Calum-” 

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Michael says defensively. Brendan looks confused. 

“He’s not?” He asks. “But...you hold hands and stuff…” 

“So?” Michael asks, sucking on his cigarette. 

“Doesn’t that mean, like... isn’t that usually something boyfriends do?” He asks, and Michael shrugs. 

“I wouldn’t know.” He says blankly. He’s already bored of this conversation. 

“Oh.” Brendan says. He still looks thoroughly confused, but Michael doesn’t elaborate. 

“Anyway.” Michael says, urging Brendan to continue. 

“Yeah. So your  _ friend  _ Calum, I just wanted you to know that...if I could take it back-” 

Michael rolls his eyes. 

“Save it.” He says, playing with the lighter in his hand. 

“No, please. I...I never meant for it to go as far as what Jackson tried to do.” Brendan says quickly. “I didn’t want... _ that.” _

“Do you think I care?” Michael says. His compassion and patience are near zero when Calum is gone. 

“Well, I guess not, I just-”

“You just want me to tell me I forgive you. To make yourself feel better.” Michael finishes. 

“No.” Brendan says with a shake of his head. “I want him, and you, to know that I’m sorry, and I won’t ever touch or look at him again.” 

“How generous of you.” Michael says sarcastically, smiling comically. “You’re so sacrificial.” 

Brendan shakes his head. 

“That’s not what I meant.” He says, but Michael is standing up, and stubbing out his cigarette. 

“That’s wonderful, Brendan.” He says, grabbing his bag to go. “If you want my advice, you’re approaching the wrong person. Calum is much, much more forgiving than I am.” 

“I know that. I haven’t had the balls to come talk to either of you until today, and he just happens to not be here.” He says. 

“Bullshit.” Michael laughs. “You just don’t want to look him in the eye.” 

Brendan pales. 

“You’re right.” He says quietly. 

“I won’t forgive you.” Michael snaps. “Not until he does.” 

Brendan gives Michael a desperate look, but Michael ignores him. He brushes past, not bothering to even give Brendan a glance. He can tell that the kid is still standing where he left him, trying to figure out a plan. Michael doesn’t really care. 

He definitely doesn’t want to face Mr. Feldmann today, so he makes the decision of skipping the rest of the day. It’s not like he has that many important classes left. As he walks out, he notices Jackson, Max, and all their little friends sitting around their regular lunch table, arms around their girlfriends’ shoulders and waists. 

Michael hates them. 

He left the lunchroom with only cigarette smoke to settle his hunger, swinging his keys in his palm. He climbed into his car, and left, driving out of the parking lot to head to the store. He knew Calum was still stick, but maybe he wanted some company. 

Or maybe he just wanted some time away from Michael. Only one way to find out. 

He picked up some of Calum’s favourite things at the store, which was on the way. A bottle of pink lemonade, a pack of gummy worms, Nerds, and of course, Soup in Hand. Nothing but the best for his favourite. 

Driving to Calum’s house is uneventful, but Michael shoots his friend a text when he hits a red light. He doesn’t get a response, which is a little weird, but by the time he finally arrives at Calum’s driveway, he doesn’t really care. 

There aren’t any lights on in Calum’s house with the exception of the one near the ground, Calum’s room. Michael shuts off his car and locks it, grabbing his bag of stuff and shoving it in his backpack. He can tell Calum’s parents that he’s here for homework or something. He walks up the concrete steps, and taking a deep breath, knocks on the wood, and waits patiently. He hears quick footsteps from the other side, almost  _ too  _ quick. The next second, the door is opening, revealing a half-naked, panting Calum. 

“Sorry, I was in the shower-” He says, gripping the towel around his hips until he realizes who it is. “Michael?” 

Michael gives him a cheeky smile. 

“Hola.” 

“What are you doing here?” Calum asks, his eyes wide. He doesn’t look angry, just a little shocked. 

“Missed you.” Michael offers simply. “Can I-” 

Calum looks over his shoulder almost nervously, biting his lip, but eventually nods. 

“Yeah. Quickly.” He says, opening the door wider. The house, as always, is cleaned almost to perfection. The air smells of incredibly strong lemon cleaner, and almost nothing else. It threatens to suffocate him.

Calum walks quickly through the house, tiptoeing, and glancing at the couch nervously when they pass through the living room to get to the stairs. Michael doesn’t understand why he’s in such a hurry, but he looks where Calum does, and he understands why he’s tiptoeing. 

On the couch is a man, Michael is assuming it’s Calum’s father. He’s dressed in sweatpants and an old college t-shirt. The t.v. is playing a football game, but the man is completely passed out, snoring. Calum obviously doesn’t want to wake him.  

Michael doesn’t question it, just lets his friend pull him through the room and to the stairs, leading him down. Michael can’t help but to watch the muscle in Calum’s back move under bruised, bronze skin. It makes Michael feel funny. 

“Sorry.” Michael says the second he’s been hastily shoved into Calum’s room. Calum presses his back against the door, and lets out a heavy breath. 

“It’s okay.” He says, offering Michael a small smile. 

Michael sets his bag on the floor, and flops down onto Calum’s fluffy blue comforter. There’s darker blue sheets underneath them, and they always smell good. The walls of his room are painted supple grey, but there are little pictures hung all around, mostly of them together. It gives the room colour, along with the little pieces of paper and posters and bright curtains and multicoloured light bulbs strung that Calum has worked so hard to set up. Michael loves Calum’s room. It’s so  _ him. _ It’s beautiful and creative and soft and small and it always smells good. 

Calum sits down on the swivelling desk chair that’s beside the bed, turned away from his desk. Michael notices that his backpack isn’t down here, and his phone is tucked safely under his pillow. Just little things. Calum is quiet, still dripping in just a white towel wrapped around his hips weakly.

“I heard you were sick.” Michael says with a smirk. 

“Feel better now.” Calum says softly. 

“Well then I guess you don’t get all the glorious treats I brought with me.” Michael says, snagging his backpack, pulling out all the stuff. Calum gives Michael a rare smile. 

“Are those Nerds?” He asks, and Michael nods with a grin. 

“The pink and purple ones too. Just for you.” He says, taking out the box, but keeping it in his palm. 

“Ooh.” Calum says, and he sits up a little, reaching for the candy. Michael holds it out of reach. 

“What’s in it for me?” He asks with a sarcastically raised eyebrow. 

“I won’t kick you out of my house.” Calum says, and yeah, that’s good enough for Michael. He smiles, and throws the box to Calum who catches it with ease. 

He sets the candy on his desk with a fading smile, watching as Michael attacks the package of gummy worms. 

“Hope you don’t mind sharing.” Michael says, barely audible as he tries to rip open the plastic with his teeth. Calum laughs quietly, and stands up. Michael feels disrespected. 

Calum is reaching into his dresser, taking out garments. He folds them again once he takes them out, placing them in a little pile. He turns to look at Michael, who is still wrestling with the container. He holds the pile with a fond look, watching his best friend. Michael finally gets it open after what feels like nine years later, and gummy worms go exploding across the room. Michael swears, and looks up at Calum, who is suppressing a laugh, his clothes still bunched in his hands. Michael looks from Calum’s face to his clothes, to the gummy worms, to the clothes, then back to Calum’s face. 

“Do you want me to…” He says slowly. Calum feels a blush rise up in his cheeks. 

“Yes please.” He says, and Michael nods before turning away, and going as far as to put his hands over his eyes. Calum gets dressed quickly, slipping on underwear and pajama pants with snowmen on them. He leaves his chest bare for now, considering it’s a little toasty in his house and it’s just Michael. 

Michael who doesn’t even like boys. 

Calum wonders if he’ll only ever feel safe around boys who only like girls.

Calum taps Michael’s shoulder, and the older finally turns around, smiling at the younger happily through a face-full of gummy worms. Calum rolls his eyes. 

“You’re the worst.” He says, but Michael takes it as a compliment. 

“So are you.” He says, offering Calum one weakly. Calum takes it with an eye roll, but chews it just the same. 

“'M sorry I came unannounced.” Michael says, sitting back against Calum’s headboard, kicking his shoes off as to not get Calum’s pretty bed dirty. Calum lines them up next to the door alongside his bag before plopping down onto the bed as well, sitting criss-cross across from him. 

“It’s alright. You just scared me.” He says with a shrug. Michael thinks he likes the way his shoulders move. 

“Where’s your mum?” 

“Work.” Calum says with a tone of finality. Michael knows not to ask anything else. “I’m kinda thirsty.” 

Michael smiles brighter than ever, and grabs the bottle of pink lemonade. 

“I got your favourite.” He says, and Calum smiles, taking the bottle gratefully. 

“You really are husband material.” He says, and that kind of strikes a chord in Michael. Not boyfriend material, but straight-up husband material. Maybe he’s reading too far into it. All best friends do this stuff, right? 

Michael rolls his eyes, and makes some sort of snide remark, and then they’re off, pigging out on the junk food Michael bought just sitting and talking quietly. Calum didn’t have to tell Michael, he just knew. Quiet, so as not to wake up the sleeping bear...or father if you will. They laughed too, especially when Michael tried to stick the gummy worms up his nose. 

Michael likes the sound of Calum’s laugh. He likes the way the corners of his eyes crinkled, and his voice got all high and pretty. He likes that Calum wasn’t wearing any makeup, but he was still  _ prettier  _ than any girl Michael had ever seen. He liked everything, with the exception of the bruises decorating his body. 

Those made Michael burn with hurt and hatred. 

It was hours later, when the sun had set and footsteps had been heard upstairs, that they were laying on his bed, one headphone is one ear each. Calum’s phone was playing between them, soft music in relaxing tones and calm rhythms. Michael liked this. They were so connected without having to be touching or even talking. They were just breathing in each other’s air, and basking in their presence, and that was enough for them both. 

He felt Calum’s cool fingers wrap around his own at one point, and Michael didn’t feel weird about it, just squeezed them, hoping it translated into: ‘I’m here.’ Because he is, and he isn’t planning on going anywhere. 

“You’ll have to go out the window.” Calum says. “I wish you could spend the night, but your car…” 

“They’d know I was here.” Michael says, and Calum nods.

“You don’t have to go now, I just thought I’d let you know.” Calum says, sitting up, taking the bud from his ear. Michael shrugged. 

“It’s getting late. Your parents will come down sooner or later, and sorry, Cal, but I am  _ not _ hiding under your bed.” He says with a smile. 

“Alright,” Calum says with a laugh. “Then I guess you better be going.” 

Michael nodded, and grabbed his backpack, zipping it up, leaving Calum with all the treasures that were previously inside. Calum stands next to the window, waiting patiently for Michael to come. Michael does, and he can’t help letting his eyes wander down Calum’s body. 

His best friend really is pretty.

Calum squirms a little under his gaze, and Michael has to remind himself that even though Calum’s his best friend, he still had boundaries, and Michael shouldn’t be stupid enough to overstep them. Michael glances at those collar bones once, though, and a brilliant idea comes into his mind. 

“You should get a tattoo.” He says, and Calum blanches. 

“A tattoo?” He asks, and Michael nods. 

“Yeah. I think you’d look good with one. Right here.” Michael says, pointing to his own, much mess magnificent collar bone. 

“Oh.” Calum says, and Michael can see it, the little suppressed smile that Calum has. Michael’s idea hit something within him, and that’s exactly what he wanted. Michael smiles at him as he climbs through the window. Calum helps him out, tossing his backpack out as well. The last thing Michael says to Calum before he leaves is: 

“You should think about a design. I’ll take you whenever you can think of one.” He says, and then he’s gone. He said that to Calum for two reasons. One, because he genuinely thinks that he’d look good with a tattoo, and he’s beautifully creative, so whatever design he comes up with will be perfect, Michael knows that. Two, he hopes that thinking about something as permanent as ink on his skin helps Calum remember how temporary the bruises imprinted in his skin are.


	8. Navy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> This chapter is a little dark, but I hope it's okay!!  
> Let me know if you like it!!  
> XX-Alex

Michael is tired. 

He’s so, so tired of this. 

It’s been awhile, too. After the big incident in the locker room, Michael had made so many death threats to the meatheads around the school that nothing had happened to Calum in at least two weeks. Michael had been glad, Calum needed the break. He knew that it would end, he knew the meatheads would be back eventually, finding Calum at cheap times when Michael wasn’t around. 

He had no idea it would be this bad. 

Mr. Feldmann had given him an hour’s worth of detention for mouthing off earlier that day, and Michael had just finally gotten out. He’d given the old man a solid glare as he left, swinging his bag over his shoulder bitterly. Calum had gone home after school got out, and despite Michael begging Mr. Feldmann to drive him home and then return for detention, the old man wouldn’t let him. He’s not even sure if he actually got home. 

Michael tried not to think about it, strutting through the empty halls quickly to his locker, tossing random books in. It’s probably about time he does his homework anyway. As he walks out of the school, he passes the bathroom that he and Calum had hidden away in earlier that month. He was digging his keys out of his bag when he heard a weird bang come from inside. 

Furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, Michael stops fiddling with his bag and listens, jarring slightly when he hears the sounds again, and it sounds much closer to a groan than a bang. Michael swings his bag over his shoulder again, and opens the door slowly. He walks in, and nearly collapses with what he finds. 

It’s Calum, of course it is. He laying on the floor, moving only slightly, groaning in pain. Much to Michael's relief, his clothes are still completely intact, but he’s obviously hurting. The underside of his nose is red with blood and one of his eyes looks swollen already. He’s crying. 

“Fucking-” Michael says, rushing to the floor, to Calum’s side. 

“Mikey,” Calum says, giving Michael a painfully relived, bloody smile. “you came.” 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Cal.” He says, helping him sit up. His young friend grimaces and whines as Michael sits him up, but doesn’t say anything. Michael looks him over, one of his hands coming to cup his cheek, looking over the damage done to his face. His eye will be black by tomorrow, but luckily, his nose isn’t bleeding anymore, there’s just dried blood on his face. At Michael’s gentle encouragement, Calum opens his mouth so that Michael can look over his teeth. None are broken or loosened thankfully, and Michael thinks that it’s stupid that he thinks he’s lucky. 

It shouldn’t be a good thing to be relieved when your teeth  _ aren’t  _ broken. 

Michael stokes his thumb along Calum’s cheek bone as the younger lifts his hand to show Michael. The older’s stomach twists into uncomfortable knots when he sees that Calum’s two middle fingers are bent uncomfortably, twitching slightly. He takes his palm gently, scanning over the two appendages. 

“Calum…” Michael starts, but Calum cuts him off. 

“I threatened to tell.” He whispers. 

Michael gives him confused eyes. 

“It was Max, Jackson, and Benny.” He says quietly. “I told Jackson that if they tried again that I would tell someone.” 

Michael feels something drop in his chest. 

“And so he broke your fingers.” He says with a sad look, looking over the broken bones. 

Calum’s bottom lip trembles. 

“I’m so lost, Mikey.” He says, and Michael doesn’t know what to do. 

“I know, baby.” He says. Neither of them acknowledge the pet name. 

“What did I do?” Calum asks, looking up at Michael desperately. Michael sighs, and stands up, walking over to the sink, wetting a paper towel. He comes back, kneeling down in front of his confused, hurt best friend. 

“Nothing.” Michael says, wiping away the blood from under Calum’s nose. “You’ve done nothing. I don’t know why the things that happen to you happen. It’s not fair, and it doesn’t make sense.” 

Calum sniffles, and Michael feels like crying too. He doesn’t get it, the universe is so unfair. Calum is the sweetest, most kind person to the world, and it’s only ever repaid him with nastiness. Michael won’t ever let that go. 

“I’m sorry you’re hurting, Calum.” He says, holding his free hand lightly. Calum shakes his head while a few tears slide down his cheeks. 

“It’s not your fault, Michael.” He says. 

Michael sighs, and pulls his phone from his back pocket, dialing Sadie’s number. She answers on the third ring. 

“I told you already, Michael, there’s food in the fridge, just stick it in the microwave.” She says, huffing like she already knows what Michael wanted. 

“No, that’s not why I’m calling.” Michael says, squeezing Calum’s hand. “I’m sorry to bother you, but..Calum, he’s-” 

“What’s wrong?” She asks worriedly. Michael feels ashamed at the bitter taste of jealousy on his tongue.

“A lot of things.” He sighs. “But, I’m pretty sure he has two broken fingers, and I need to get him to the hospital. His parents won’t want the bill.” 

Calum gives Michael a heartfelt look. 

“Oh dear.” Sadie says. “What happened?”

Michael looked at Calum. 

“I’ll explain later.” He says. “Can you just do me a favour and let my dad know?” 

There’s a pause. 

“Michael-” 

“Please, Sadie? Can you do this for me? Or better, for Calum?” He begs. He knows that’s a cheap card to play, but he’s so, so tired. He hears Sadie sigh. 

“I suppose. But Michael, next time, you should call your father. I’m sure he’d love to hear from you.” She says. Michael’s chest tightens uncomfortably, he knows that his father doesn’t ever want to hear from him. 

“Okay.” He says, and then he’s hanging up. He doesn’t want to talk about his father anymore. 

“C’mon, Cal.” He says, keeping one hand locked with his friend’s, his other hand gripping his elbow. He helps him up, the younger letting a pained look cross his face. 

“‘M sorry.” He says for what feels like the thousandth time. Calum purses his lips, and leans against the wall, wrapping an arm around his ribs. Michael finds Calum’s backpack against the wall, papers and books spilling out of it. Michael frowns when he sees  _ Perks of Being a Wallflower _ among the mess. He shoves everything back inside, and swings the bag over his shoulder and well as his own before returning to his friend. 

“Let’s get your fingers fixed.” He says, wrapping an arm around his waist, leading him out of the damn bathroom. As they leave, they all but run into Mr. Feldmann, who had his briefcase, ready to leave. 

“Watch where you’re going.” Michael snaps as he steps backwards quickly, making Calum whimper quietly. Mr. Feldmann looks like he’s getting ready to chew Michael’s ass when his eyes land on Calum. 

“What...what happened to him?” He asks, shocked. Michael glares. 

“Don’t worry about it.” He huffs. “Excuse us.” 

“Michael, he looks seriously hurt, what happened?” He says with a little more force. 

“I’m taking him to the hospital.” He says in lieu of answering. 

“Did you do this?” Mr. Feldmann asks. 

“Oh Jesus.” Calum groans. 

“Did you seriously just ask me that? Why is the  _ fuck  _ would I do that?!” Michael yells. 

“Mr. Feldmann, Michael didn’t do this, just...an accident.” Calum wheezes out, squeezing his ribs. 

“An accident?” Mr. Feldmann asks. Michael is hesitant to keep those meatheads safe, but after they hurt Calum so bad, he decides to go with it, and he nods. 

“Look. We can stand here all day and talk about what happened or you can butt out and I take him to the hospital.” Michael says. 

Mr. Feldmann looks hesitant, but nods anyway. 

“Just go. Take him.” He says, shaking his head. Michael does, letting out an annoyed huff whilst supporting Calum through the halls. 

“'M sorry I’m such a burden, Mikey.” Calum says when they finally get into the car. Michael furrows his eyebrows, looking at his best friend, who looks... _ absolutely frustrated _ . It takes Michael a second to realize that he’s frustrated with himself. Michael shakes his head to himself, and starts his car. Without responding to Calum, he drives to the hospital, which luckily is only a few minutes away. He helps him out, but Calum brushes him off, walking on his own. Michael doesn't feel offended. 

As they check in under Michael’s father’s name, Michael thinks about what he’s going to do about this. He knows exactly who it was, and he has proof. He so badly wants to tell the principal, or Mrs. Ricksen, or fuck even Mr. Feldmann. But he can’t risk getting Calum even more hurt. 

This isn’t even Michael’s place. It’s Calum’s. He should be the one to decide what to do. Even though Michael’s always been the one to clean him up after he got beaten to hell or when he came home sobbing his eyes out, it was ultimately Calum’s decision. Michael wondered what his parents thought. 

Michael watched when the doctor poked Calum’s fingers, bending them slightly one way and then the other. Calum didn’t even flinch, just did what the doctor asked and answered his questions. He looked sad. Michael wondered if the doctor noticed. 

After the doctor had wrapped and splinted Calum’s broken fingers, as well as given him a bottle of pills with a piece of paper holding directions, he motioned for Michael to talk with him in the hall. Michael went obediently. 

“Yes?” He asked, burying his hands in his pockets. 

“Are you of any relation to him?” He asks, and Michael hesitates before shaking his head. 

“No.” He sighs. “But I’m all he has.” 

The doctor raises an eyebrow. Michael reads his tag, and his name goes from ‘the doctor’  to ‘Doctor Thurness’. 

“What about his parents?” He asks. Michael shrugs. 

“I’m all he has.” He repeats. 

“ _ All _ he has? Are his parents not alive?” The doctor asks, and Michael shakes his head slowly. 

“They’re alive. His mum is a nurse. But, um, his parents aren’t really  _ around  _ much.” He says, blushing a little. He hates this. 

“Around?” Dr. Thurness asks, apparently still confused. “Surely they would be around if he was in the hospital.” 

Michael gave him a look. Dr. Thurness seemed to understand.

“You know that’s a form of child abuse, Mr. Clifford?” Mr. Thurness asks, and Michael nods, ashamed. “Child neglect is a serious matter, I hope you’re not lying to cover anything up.” 

Michael raises an eyebrow. 

“You think I’d lie about something like that?” He asks. “Look at him, he didn’t break his fingers doing something stupid that he would hide from his parents. He got his fingers  _ broken _ by someone else.” 

Dr. Thurness raised an eyebrow. 

“Child neglect and assault.” He says, and to Michael’s surprise, looks concerned. “And you didn’t call the police, or tell someone?” 

Michael sighs. 

“Look, he’s sixteen, almost seventeen. He only has a little bit longer to live at home and go to school.” He says quietly. “I know he doesn’t look it right now, but he’s strong. It’s just been a rough couple of weeks.” 

“Just because someone is strong doesn’t mean we need to test their strength.” Mr. Thurness says. Michael sighs. 

“Please.” Michael says. “Just let him be. He’ll be fine. He’ll be better off if you just leave it.” 

Dr. Thurness shakes his head. 

“This isn’t your decision.” 

“It’s not yours either.” 

Dr. Thurness nods, and opens the door to Calum’s room, to find the boy exactly where they left him, twiddling his non-broken fingers. 

“Hi.” He says weakly when they come in. 

“Hey.” Michael smiles. 

“Alright, so you’re all good to go, Mr. Hood. Just make sure you follow the directions on that sheet and change your bandages if they get dirty, alright?” Dr. Thurness says with a smile. Michael furrows his eyebrows, and looks at him. 

“Alright.” Calum nods. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, take it easy, yeah?” 

Calum gives him a bright smile. 

“Yeah,” He laughs. “I will.” 

Calum hops off the table, his Conversed feet hitting the ground with a slap. He leads the way out, pushing the door open slowly with his injured hand. Michael is about to follow him when Dr. Thurness catches him on the shoulder. 

“If what you told me was the truth…” He says. “You need to do something. No one deserves to be abandoned or beaten, especially not someone like him.” 

Michael nods. 

“He’s obviously quite fond of you, are you two…?”

“Best friends. Just friends.” He clears. The doctor nods. 

“Take care of him.” He says, and then he’s releasing his shoulder. Michael nods determinately. 

“I will.” 

Back in the lobby, Calum is standing with his arms wrapped around his middle, shivering next to the open door. Michael smiles at him, and slings an arm around his shoulders, rubbing his arm as they walk out. Calum lets him lead him to the car, and smiles when Michael opens the door for him. Michael walks around to his own seat, and gets in, turning the car on and blasting the heat for his friend. 

“Calum,” He says. “look at me.” 

Calum does, and Michael sets a hand on his knee. 

“Listen. Do not  _ ever  _ think that you’re a burden on me, understand?” He asks seriously, and Calum nods with wide eyes. “Because you’re not. In fact, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

Calum gives him a smile that makes him believe everything will be okay.

 

-

 

“Jesus Christ.” 

Calum snaps his head up, giving Michael a shocked look. 

“What? What’s wrong?” He asks. Michael groans as he sees Brendan approaching their lunch spot. There’s no one else near them, there’s no mistaking who he’s coming for. They just can’t get a break, can they? Calum literally got the shit beaten out of him  _ two days _ ago.

“I kinda forgot to tell you.” Michael mutters, stabbing his cold school lasagne. 

“What?” Calum asks, looking at Michael with more purpose. 

“Brendan kind of came to talk to me a little while ago.” He says, and Calum raises an eyebrow. 

“About what?” He asks. 

“My boyfriend.” Michael says with a dry chuckle. Calum’s eyes widen. “Sorry.” He tags on. 

“Boyfriend?” 

“I was kidding. He came to talk to me about you.” He says, watching as Brendan gets closer. 

“Why?” 

“You’ll see.” Michael says, nodding towards Brendan. Calum turns to look at what Michael sees, his cheeks turning pink when he sees the bigger boy approaching. Michael can see the way his muscles tense, ready to run or hit or something. “It’s okay.” 

Calum turns back around, the tips of his ears turning red. Michael thinks it’s interesting how good he is at covering his bruises with makeup. If Michael wasn’t there to scrape him off the floor, he wouldn’t believe that he had a black eye. 

“Hey guys.” Brendan says when he finally gets there. Michael rolls his eyes. 

“Brendan.” Michael nods. Brendan awkwardly shoulders his bag, and nods to the spot beside Michael. Michael nods begrudgingly. Brendan walks around the table and sits down. Michael scoots away from him, and Brendan puts his bag in his lap awkwardly. 

“Um,” He says, looking at Calum, whose knuckles had gone white with his grip oh his pen. He definitely looked scared. “I kinda wanted to...talk to you, Calum.” 

Calum looks up shyly. 

“Okay.” He says quietly. Brendan swallows a lump that rose in his throat. 

“I um, I’m really sorry for what happened.” Brendan spits out, and Calum blushes. 

“Oh.” He says. 

“I didn’t want any of it to happen, and I feel really awful, and those boys...they do awful things to you and it’s just not okay.” 

“I know.” Calum whispers. Michael tenses. Calum doesn’t exactly need a reminder. 

“Yeah.” Brendan says. He looks awkward, of course. Michael almost feels bad. 

“Is that all?” Michael asks, Brendan purses his lips. 

“I don’t talk to them anymore. I don’t really have any friends left. It sucks...it’s like if you don’t do something horrible to someone you can’t be friends with them.” He mutters. Michael and Calum both nod. 

“I don’t feel sorry for you, in case you were wondering.” Michael says. 

“I didn’t think you would.” Brendan says with a humorless smile. 

“I do.” Calum says. Both boys snap their heads to gape at him. 

“Calum-” Michael starts, but Calum shakes his head. 

“I know what it’s like to not have any friends. I also know what it’s like to lose them.” He says, and Michael suddenly feels really small. He remembers in grade school, when Calum didn’t wear makeup or more feminine clothes. He had been borderline popular back then, all dark skin and fluffy hair, athletic body. Everyone had loved him, especially the girls. With a sick twist, Michael realized that Calum used to be  _ friends  _ with Max and Jackson. While Michael had always known what it was like to be alone, it was a new experience for Calum at the time. Michael had trouble imagining what it was like for Calum to watch all of his friends, one by one, leave him. 

It just got worse. 

“I get it. I’m sorry that you’ve lost all your friends.” Calum says with a frown. “It sucks, it really does, and it will for a while, but eventually, you’ll find more. And you’ll probably find that the friends who stick around are the only ones that matter anyway.” 

Michael glances at Calum, who has a mad blush on his cheeks. Brendan looked surprised, glancing between the two. 

“I forgive you. If that’s what you came here for.” Calum says, looking down at his notebook. “It’s pointless to hold grudges.” 

Michael raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t question it. Brendan bites his lip. He obviously doesn’t know what to say. Calum doesn’t look at either of them, just continues to write his science homework. 

“Well.” Michael says, patting Brendan on the shoulder. “That’s that. Nice to see you. Bye.” 

Brendan looks at Michael for a few seconds, his eyebrows furrowing. His shaggy blonde hair is hanging in his eyes, and his freckled nose twitches. Michael sighs. 

“I’ve got to take my tray up.” He says, nodding to his lunch. “Come with me?” 

Brendan nods, and Michael sees the way Calum gets worried, so as they walk by, he squeezes the younger’s shoulder comfortingly. 

“Be right back.” He says, and Calum nods, burying his nose in his homework again. 

Michael walks with Brendan, dumping his trash and putting his tray on the shelf. When he’s finished, he turns to Brendan with crossed arms. 

“What happened to his hand?” He asks eventually. Michael shrugged. 

“Got the shit kicked out of him the other day by those meatheads.” He says, jerking a thumb towards their table. “He threatened to tell someone what they were doing, so Jackson, in all his glory, broke two of his fingers.” 

“Jesus.” Brendan breathes out. “I knew they were bad, but…” 

“Yeah. It’s always been bad, but they’ve never gone that far. Especially with what happened two weeks ago in the locker room...he’s pretty shaken up.” Michael says, starting to walk back. 

“He seems pretty relaxed.” Brendan pointed out. 

“That’s just his personality. You should see him around Jackson.” Michael says with a twinge of sadness. 

“How have they gotten away with this?” Brendan asks. “They literally broke someone’s fingers, how has no one noticed?” 

Michael shrugs. 

“No one cares.” He says. 

“Not even the principal?” Brendan says, still following Michael. He’s kind of like an irritating puppy without the cuteness. 

“Look, Brendan. Literally no one cares. I went to the principal ages ago. He would never listen to me or Calum. We don’t exactly have proof.” 

“You have witnesses. I could testify.” 

Michael shakes his head. 

“You don’t get it, do you? We are on our own. Telling the principal or even the police would do nothing but land Calum in even more trouble, it would bring in his parents, and my parents, and they would probably move him away from everything.” 

“Away from you.” Brendan says. Michael hesitates. 

“Yes.” He says quietly. “I’m all he has.” 

Brendan nods slowly, stopping at the door that Michael needed to go through to get to Calum. 

“I really am sorry for everything that’s happened.” 

Michael nodded, and pushed the door open, letting in cool November air. 

“Me too.”


	9. Capri

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola!!  
> I hope you guys are liking this story so far, sorry it's so dark :((  
> Anyway, Luke's character is loosely based off of 5sos' "Invisible"   
> You'll see why in the later chapters!!!  
> Love you guys :))  
> XX-Alex

Michael often feels like he’s drowning. 

And to make matters even worse, it feels like he’s being  _ dragged  _ to the bottom of the ocean by a beautiful boy with tan skin and fluffy hair. It makes him feel guilty. 

It isn’t Calum’s fault. He was already drowning, and he’d given up, sinking helplessly. 

Michael had been the one to cast himself as a landline. Calum was just the one who summoned enough strength to catch it and hold on. 

Michael worked hard to pull Calum to shore, but sometimes the waves lapped against Calum, pulling him under. Michael refused to let go, which resulted in him getting pulled into the tide as well. Now, they sit in the middle of the ocean, some days it’s Calum dragging Michael, and some days it’s Michael pulling Calum. But every time, things seem to even out, and they find themselves in their own personal eye of the storm they try so desperately to stay out of. 

It makes Michael feel absolutely suffocated. 

He’s trying so  _ damn _ hard to make things work, to make them okay for Calum, and some days...he just isn’t enough. 

He can’t do everything, and in his mind, that’s equal to doing nothing. He knows he hurts Calum. He knows that Calum knows he’s being weighed down by his best friend. Michael can only hope that he knows that he doesn’t mind. Because honestly, if things really came down to it, he’d  _ let  _ Calum drag him to the depths of the sea. In fact, the only reason sometimes that they’re still afloat is because Calum keeps kicking like crazy to keep his head above water.  

Michael doesn’t know what the better option is anymore. There’s a lot of commotion above water, splashing and choking and screaming. Underwater, there’s of course that knee-jerk reaction of panic, but once that settles, things are different. Things are quiet, cool, cozy even, and really, Calum’s there beside him, so why should he ever leave? 

“Mikey.” 

Michael snaps his head up from the dark, dark place he’d been in when Calum wrapped his fingers around his wrist. He looks up, at the boy, at his anchor, and he smiles, because he’s just so damn  _ beautiful. _ For the first time ever, Michael gets the overwhelming urge to kiss him. 

The idea itself feels like a tidal wave that pulls him back under. Except this time, he fights himself to the surface, gripping the line he’d casted so long ago. 

“Hi Calum.” He smiles charmingly. He’s sure that there’s a giant red spot on his forehead from where he’d been laying on his desk, and he knows that his roots are growing back into his dyed hair. He knows that he looks like a mess. He doesn’t  _ deserve _ to be next to someone as pretty as Calum, who looks like beauty itself in his leggings and loose-fitting t shirt. Michael kind of hates himself for thinking that Calum could  _ drag _ him anywhere. It’s not called dragging when you  _ want _ to go. 

“Hi bud. Are you alright?” He asks with such concern, it hurts Michael to see. 

“Yes.” He says, getting up out of his desk. “Do you want to skip school?” 

Calum raises an eyebrow, but nods nonetheless. Michael smiles, and shoves all his stuff in his bag, and waits patiently for the bell to ring. 

Calum’s fingers never leave his wrist. 

 

-

 

Luke Hemmings shows up on a cool, windy Thursday. 

Michael most likely wouldn’t have noticed he was there at all if he hadn’t come stumbling into music class ten minutes late with bright cheeks and an apologetic look on his face. Michael, at the time, really wasn’t in the mood for some little kid’s shit. He’d already been in a fight that morning when he caught Calum against a wall with Ben, Jackson’s older cousin, holding an arm next to his head. He hadn’t been touching or anything, but he’d obviously been making Calum feel uncomfortable, and Michael wasn’t having it. He’d been bitched at by Mrs. Ricksen for never doing his homework, and he’d accidentally closed his locker door on his fingers. Really, he was at the end of his rope with the entire day, and he just wanted to go home. 

Now, some kid with long ass legs comes waltzing right into his least favourite class, late mind you, interrupting Mr. Feldmann’s already irritating talk on eighth notes, you can imagine how happy he was when Mr. Feldmann directed him to the only open chair...right next to him. 

He groaned when it happened, but Calum sent him a loving look, like the kid was a homeless puppy that he wanted to adopt, and...no. Michael  _ wasn’t  _ having it. He was just about to  _ demand _ that Calum switch spots with him, because this is utterly  _ ridiculous _ when the kid plopped down beside him, dropping his bag a little awkwardly. 

Michael scoffs, and rolls his eyes, huffing as he turns away. The kid looks confused. Calum comes to his rescue. 

“Don’t worry. He’s always like that. His bark is much worse than his bite, I promise.” He says softly. Michael looks at the kid through the corner of his eye, waiting to see the disgust, the judgement in his eyes when he sees Calum. 

But it never comes. 

“Oh. I thought it was just me.” The kid whispers back. Michael already hates him. 

“It is.” He hisses. Calum rolls his eyes, but fondly. 

“He’s just had a bad day. He doesn’t mean it.” He smiles, pinching Michael’s forearm, making the older whine. 

“Cal.” He pouts, flicking his fingers. Calum gives him a cheeky lift of his eyebrow. 

“See?” He says to the kid, who looks a little frightened. “He’s a softie.” 

“Why do I deal with you?” Michael asks himself. Calum gives him a smile, mostly to prove a point. The kid beside Michael raises the corner of his mouth. 

“I’m Calum, by the way.” Calum says, reaching a hand across Michael’s lap. The kid looks at his manicured hand for a second before smiling small. 

“Luke.” He says, and much to Michael’s amusement, his voice cracks. His cheeks go bright red as he takes Calum’s hand. “You’re the first one to talk to me all day.” 

Calum nods.  

“There aren’t a lot of amazing people here, unfortunately.” Calum says. Aside from everything else, Michael is extremely pleased to see him talking again, to strangers nonetheless. Luke looks down. Michael doesn’t understand him already. 

“Where are you from?” Calum asks Luke. 

“Um.” Luke blushes a little. “Private school on the other side of town.” 

Calum smiles gently, and Michael smirks. 

“You get kicked out?” He asks him teasingly. Calum punches him lightly and Luke snaps his head up. 

“Not exactly.” He says. There’s something in his voice, in his eyes, that tells Michael that there’s more to say, that he  _ wants _ to say more. He wonders if he’s waiting for someone to ask him about it. 

“It’s none of our business.” Calum says with a stern look to Michael. Luke gives Calum a coded look. 

“Mr. Clifford?” 

Michael groans in his head, and looks up. 

“Yes, Mr. Feldmann?” He says. 

“Can you tell me eighteenth notes are in a 2/4 measure?” He asks. Michael knows he’s asking because they were talking. He desperately wants to say that he wasn’t even talking, but for once his life, he wasn’t, but that would get Calum in trouble, or the new kid…

“No.” He says simply, crossing his arms. 

“Then I suggest you shut up and listen.” Mr. Feldmann says before turning back to the board. Michael catches Jack’s eye from across the room as he flips off his teacher. Jack winks at him. 

Asshole. 

“Sorry, Mikey.” Calum whispers, but Michael just brushes him off. 

“It’s cool. I wasn’t listening anyway.” He says. Luke is looking at him with that weird  _ thing  _ again, and Michael kind of wants to snap at him. He’d get his ass chewed by Calum though, so he doesn’t. 

The rest of class passes in silence, much to Michael’s relief. Unfortunately, Luke follows them to their next class, and Calum insists that he sits next to them. Michael worries a little. He knows that Calum wants a friend, he does too, but this kid Luke, he deserves a fighting chance. Becoming friends with them might not be his best shot. 

Michael won’t let someone else get hurt. 

When school gets out, Michael wrestles Calum into his car, and asks him to stay there while he prowls the halls for the new kid. His feet hurt, and he  _ seriously  _ just wants to leave, but he decides that this is important. 

He finally fucking finds Luke, standing by what he’s assuming is his locker, drowning in a hoodie, cradling uncovered books to chest. He’s watching someone, with a jolt, Michael realizes that it’s Jackson and Max, who are shoving a Year 9 into a locker, trying to get  _ something _ from him. 

“Hey,” Michael yells, stalking over to the two of them, shoving Jackson to the side. Jackson gives him a glare, and Max laughs. 

“Since when are you a hero, Clifford?” He says, leaning against the wall. 

“Since you became an asshole. Oh wait, you’ve always been one.” Michael says, helping the little Year 9 off the floor. He gives Michael a grateful look as he grips his bicep, lifting him up. He runs off, Jackson trying to trip him on the way. Michael rolls his eyes. 

“You know you’re not that bad, Clifford.” Jackson says. “It’s too bad you’re friends with...well the charity case.” 

Michael squares his jaw. 

“Screw off.” He says, and he turns away. He can hear Jackson and Max laugh as they leave, muttering insults about him and his best friend. Michael turns to Luke, who looks shocked. 

“Hey,” He says, putting his hands in the pockets. Luke furrows his eyebrows. 

“Um. Hi.” Luke says.

“Why are you still here?” 

Luke sniffs, and pulls up his hoodie which is slipping off his shoulder. 

“I’m waiting for my brother to pick me up.” He mutters. 

“It’s 3:15. Shouldn’t he be here by now?” 

Luke shook his head. 

“No. He has football until 4. I’ll be here for a while.” Luke says sheepishly. 

Michael feels conflicted. 

“Look, I wanted to talk with you about something.” He says. Luke reels back, like Michael slapped him or something. 

“What?” He asks, his voice cracking again. 

“I don’t know why you left your old school, but I get the feeling you’re a bit of a popular kid." He says. Luke looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. “I’m not trying to be a dick or anything, but Calum and I...we’re not exactly the most liked people in the school. Calum’s different, and we get a lot of hate for it.” 

Luke furrows his eyebrows, and gives Michael a weird look. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Calum offered to be friends with you. He  _ wants _ to be friends, even if he doesn’t seem like it. It’s not that I don’t want him to have friends or anything, I don’t feel threatened by you.” 

Luke gives a chuckle. 

“My point is that Calum gets beat up a lot, and so do I. I suggest that you stay away from us. It will be better for you. Safer.” He says. He can feel the blush on his cheeks, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. Luke raises his eyebrows. 

“I don’t think it will make a difference.” He says. “I didn’t have any friends at my old school.”

Michael gives him a hesitant look. 

“I’m going to get beaten up anyway. I don’t see how being friends with you and him will hurt.” He shrugs. Michael thinks he looks really small in his too-big hoodie. 

“Do you have a problem with Calum?” Michael spits out. He just needs to know, just get it out of the way. Luke looks shocked. 

“No. Why would I? He’s one of the only people who’s ever been nice to me.” Luke says with wide blue eyes. 

“He’s a little different, in case you hadn’t noticed.” 

“So? He’s nice. Why does what he looks like make a difference?” Luke asks. Michael raises an eyebrow. 

“It doesn’t.” He says. Luke frowns a little. 

“Does he really get beaten up?” He asks, Michael thinks the innocence in his blue eyes in comical. 

“Yes.” He says eventually. “Badly.” 

Luke’s frowns deepens. 

“That’s stupid.” 

“I agree.” Michael says, and they’re quiet for a second. Michael doesn’t mind the silence. Luke’s breathing is even and unafraid unlike before. 

“Where do you live?” He asks eventually, Luke gives him a weird look. 

“West side of town. Why?” 

“Let’s go.” Michael sighs, turning around. No room for argument. 

“Go? Go where?” Luke asks. Michael realizes that Luke is a little slow. 

“C’mon, I have a car. Calum’s in it. I’m not leaving you here until 4.” He says, starting to walk down the hallway. 

“You... want to take me home?” Luke asks. Michael sighs dramatically. 

“Not  _ want _ . Just don’t ask questions, and don’t expect me to be this nice ever again.” He says, and Luke is finally catching up, stumbling on his awkward legs. 

“Thank you.” Luke mutters, Michael rolls his eyes as they get to the doors, pushing them open for the parking lot. 

“And if you say a  _ word _ to Calum about this conversation, I swear, you’ll never see the light of day again.” He threatens, and Luke nods so fast, Michael thinks his head might fall off. Michael finally gets to his car, and slides into the driver’s seat, smiling at his friend. 

“Hi.” He smiles. 

“Hey.” Michael exhales. 

“Where were you?” He asks. He’s answered by Luke climbing into the backseat somewhat awkwardly. Calum raises an eyebrow at Michael. Michael shrugs. 

“Hey Luke.” Calum says, looking at him through the rear-view mirror. 

“Hi.” Luke smiles. Michael rolls his eyes. 

Calum gives Michael a weird look, but he ignores it, and starts his car. 

“So,” He says, putting the car into gear. “directions please?” 

He tried not to feel good about the smile Calum was trying to hide.


	10. Mint

Despite Michael’s best efforts, Luke started to become a part of their everyday life. 

It had its pros and its cons just like everything else. 

The cons, as much as Michael hated to say it, were far and few between. Luke was sweet. He was small and shy and funny and his cheeks turned red in the cold. He was very rarely rude or sarcastic, and he seemed to be unbelievably grateful that he and Calum talked to him. Michael didn't talk so much as threw sarcastic comments or even insults at him when he said something stupid. Which actually happened a lot. 

The pros, however, seemed to grow everyday. It was irritating. Luke made things nicer for them both. He was funny and endearing, kind of like a puppy, but also smart and opinionated. Not to mention that he loved music almost as much as they did, just to a much nerdier extent. He made Calum  _ visibly _ happier, the two of them would parade around the school or Michael’s house, laughing at each other’s jokes, tripping over Luke’s stupid legs. 

For Michael, Luke seemed to be his light. He made the pain in his chest and the darkness in his mind go away. Everytime he felt his lungs filling with water, Luke was there, his own little beach of white sand and a lighthouse guiding him there safely. It was stupid, Michael didn’t like how much of an effect the young blonde had on him. But it was inevitable. Not when Luke was there to help clean Calum up when his nose was dripping with blood or when he was there to wipe Calum’s cheeks after a bad day. 

Michael couldn’t help but to let the kid in. 

“I think we should be heading back.” Michael said, leaning backwards with his palms on the rotting wood. 

“You think?” Calum asks. He’s laying on his back on the dock, his eyes closed, hand resting on his tummy. He got his splint off a few days ago, and aside from a few minor bruises on his arms, he was fine. Michael hated that for him to be considered fine, there had to be  _ just a few _ bruises on his body. He hated their circumstances. 

“Yeah.” Michael sighed. The waves below him were threatening today, the sky cloudy and grey, the sea grumpier than usual. “Luke’s probably waiting for us.” 

Calum sighs, his chest expanding below his grey jumper. He looks particularly cuddly today, Michael thinks. Black skinny jeans, fluffy grey jumper, and light grey high tops. The clothes don’t seem drastically feminine, but that was never what it was about. Calum doesn’t want to feel like a  _ girl _ he wants to feel  _ pretty _ . Michael got that, why couldn’t everyone else? 

“You’re right.” He says, but he still isn’t moving. Michael laughs, and stands up. 

‘C’mon, slug. Let’s go grab the squirt.” He says, offering Calum a hand. 

Calum laughs. 

“Slug?” He asks, sitting up on his elbows. “Where did that come from?” 

Michael shrugs, and lifts Calum off the wood of the pier. 

“Might’ve heard Luke say it once.” He mutters, leading Calum back to the car from the pier, tucking his hands into his pockets. Calum gives him a cheeky smile. 

“What?” He asks. 

“Luke. You’re so fond, Michael Clifford.” He says, sliding into the car. Michael scoffs. 

“I am not  _ fond _ . Especially not for  _ Luke. _ ” He snaps, turning the car on to pull out of the pier parking lot. 

“You are. You’re picking up his sayings. You call him  _ squirt _ for the love of god. That’s as fond as it gets. If you got any fonder, I’d say you had a crush.” Calum says with cheek. Michael rolls his eyes. He gets an itch in his throat, like something desperately wants to come up, something about how if he were any fonder of Luke, then the kid would be Calum. But he chokes it down. 

“That’s nothing. You’re just as  _ fond _ .” Michael says, emphasizing the word. 

Calum rolls his eyes, but a smile is on his face. Michael likes the way the sun moves over his cheeks in the car. He kind of wants to tell him. 

“Have I ever told you that you have beautiful skin?” He says. It shocks Calum….maybe even more than him. 

“Me?” He asks, sitting forward a little. 

“Yeah.” Michael says, a little awkwardly. He’s a little embarrassed that the thought slipped out. 

“Oh.” Calum says. Michael doesn’t know how to feel about the way his friends eyebrows draw together. “Thank you.” 

“You’re...welcome.” He says slowly. He swallows a lump in his throat. He didn’t mean for it to be awkward. Maybe it only is because he made it that way. He compliments Calum all the time, why is this any different? Calum seems to sense the shift in Michael’s persona, because within a few seconds, cool fingers are wrapping around Michael’s hand. 

He doesn’t say anything, just holds Michael’s hand as they drive back to the school. Michael intertwines their fingers, and lets out a deep breath. Calum squeezes his palm comfortingly. 

“I love you lots, Mikey.” He whispers. Michael knows that if he tries to say it back, something bad will happen, so he just brings Calum’s knuckles to his lips, and kisses them lovingly.

By the time they get back to school, and Luke is climbing into the car, bitching about detention, their fingers are separated and their weird moment is forgotten. 

“Jesus Luke,  _ shut up _ .” Michael complains. Calum smiles at Luke. 

“How was detention, Lukey?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows. Michael shoots him a look that screams “traitor”. Luke groans loudly, and dramatically throws himself across the backseat. 

“Oh my  _ god _ . It was awful!” He whines. Then he’s off, bantering wildly about his detention with Mr. Wilkinson, their history teacher. Michael wasn’t really paying attention, ignoring Luke as he always did when he started to go off about something. It was painfully cute, but at the same time, unbelievably annoying. Calum smiled at Luke as he talked about some gum stuck under his desk that got stuck to his jeans. Michael was just happy that Calum was happy. 

They drove to Calum’s house, laughing at Luke’s antics and arguing about the music playing in Michael’s speakers. It felt good. The rides with Calum used to be relaxed, and Michael loved it, but with Luke, things just feel...complete. They feel right. He likes the unity they share. Even though they’ve only been friends with Luke for a few weeks, he filled a gap that Michael didn’t even know existed. It made him feel a little bad. Calum was always quiet, and it felt weird to see him so alive and loud with Luke. Maybe it’s just the blonde. 

“Alright guys.” Calum says when they get to his house. He looks dampened, and it breaks Michael’s heart. It’s hard to go from being on top of the world in their own little paradises, like the pier or Michael’s car, back to reality. 

“Bye Cally!” Luke squeals, patting the pretty boy on the top of the head, laughing like an idiot all the while. Calum smiles at him, but Michael can tell with a heavy heart that it’s forced. 

“Bye Luke.” He says, shoving the younger’s head away from him, making him fall back into the seat, still smiling like a fucking idiot. 

“Bye Cal.” Michael says softly. Calum gives him a long look that says all the things he would say out loud if Luke weren’t there. “Call if you need anything.” 

“I will.” Calum promises. Then he’s grabbing his backpack and climbing out of the car, and maybe it’s just Michael, but he seems to walk faster than usual to the door, opening and closing it without the hesitation Michael always saw. 

Michael is thinking about him, and what goes on inside of his house when he gets an unexpected elbow to the head. 

“Ow. Luke, what the fuck?” He snaps, looking over as Luke heaves himself into the passenger seat. 

“Sorry.” Luke says, a bit more calm now that Calum’s left. Michael also thinks that he might still be a little afraid. Michael just sighs and pulls out of the driveway, rolling his eyes at his younger friend, who is fiddling with his radio. 

The ride to Luke’s takes around a million years, and it’s not  _ nearly  _ as fun without Calum. But it’s not bad, Michael still enjoys Luke, and he  _ adores  _ listening to him sing, which is what they do more often than not. Luke sings, and Michael joins in, harmonizing with him because it comes easily. 

When Michael finally does pull up to Luke’s, he’s out of breath from belting out one direction - no shame - at the top of his lungs with his blonde friend. Luke’s cheeks are red and his chest is heaving from the effort it took to hit some of those high notes. Michael thinks he’s kind of an idiot. He’s been inside luke’s house a couple of times when his family isn’t home, and Michael likes it. It’s big like his, but much more lived-in, with family pictures and cozy furniture. The outside is beautiful, with shrubs trimmed and colourful flower beds lining the pathway. Luke has a literal white picket fence house. Michael  _ hates  _ the bitter taste on his tongue.

“Hey Mike?” 

Michael looks over at Luke, who has his backpack on, and one hand on the handle. 

“What?” Michael asks, but it must be lacking its usual heat, because Luke doesn’t reel away. 

“How come we never go inside Calum’s house?” He asks. That  _ thing _ that Michael saw in his eyes on his first day of school is there again. Michael still doesn’t know what it is. 

His hands tighten on the steering wheel, and he can feel his shoulders tense. Luke watches him patiently, but he won’t leave without an answer. 

“We don’t really talk about it.” Michael says eventually. 

Luke doesn’t say anything for a second, just stares at his shoes. 

“Do you know what goes on inside?” He asks, still looking at his shoes. Michael squares his jaw. 

“We don’t really talk about it.” He says again. He hopes that Luke understands. 

Apparently he does, because Michael can hear the break in his breathing pattern. 

“The world sucks.” Luke says, and Michael has little time to nod before the blonde is climbing out of the car, running for his own, safe home. 


	11. Cobalt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for cheese at the end

When Calum calls Michael this time, it’s not like before. 

The time is the same, around 3 am, and it’s the same when Michael almost kills himself trying to find his phone in the dark, but when he says ‘hello’, he can tell things are different.

The first thing he notices is the crying. He can tell when Calum cries. 

“Cal?” He asks, pushing himself off the mattress with one arm. 

“Hi Michael.” Calum says.  _ Michael. _

“Hi. Are you alright?” 

There’s a hiccup from the other side. Calum’s crying already, but it’s obvious that he’s trying to hold back a torrent of sobbing. 

“Yes.” He says, his voice shaking. 

“Are you lying to me?” Michael asks. There’s a pause on Calum’s side. 

“I...I don’t know.” 

“What’s wrong?” He asks softly. 

“I don’t know either.” He says. His voice is cracking. He sounds scared; desperate. 

“Hey, it’s alright, Cal.” He soothes. “Just breathe with me, okay? Just...deep breaths, alright?” 

Calum inhales shakily with Michael, and exhales when he does. They do that for a while, in and out until Calum’s calmed down a bit. 

“You want to tell me what happened?” Michael asks. He knows it a long, long shot, but he asks anyway. 

“N-No. I just...I don’t know, nothing really happened, it’s just that things are slipping…” Calum trails off. He’s hiccuping, trying to calm down, but Michael knows he’s doing nothing but getting himself worked up. 

“No.” Michael says softly into the phone. “You’re alright, babe.” 

Calum takes a shuddery breath. 

“Do you love me, Michael?” He asks. Michael thinks that it’s a ridiculous question. 

“Every day.” 

“How?” Calum asks. Michael’s heart stop beating, and blood rushes to his cheeks. He doesn’t know how to answer that. He thinks about it a lot, how much he loves Calum. He’s never really found an answer. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that, that’s not fair.” 

“Do you love me?” Michael asks hastily. Calum laughs a little, wet and hollow. 

“What do you think?” 

“That’s what matters, yeah?” Michael asks. “I love you. You love me, that’s what matters.” 

Calum laughs again. Michael can tell that his tears are disappearing. 

“Yes, Michael. That’s what matters.” He says with a shaking voice. 

“Right. We don’t need to worry about anything else right now, because that’s all the matters.” He says calmly, sitting back against the headboard. Calum is quiet for a second, but Michael can still hear him sniffling. 

“Will you talk to me?” He asks in a tiny voice. Michael nods before he realizes that Calum can’t see him. 

“I made spaghetti tonight. All on my own, you would’ve been proud.” He says, smiling smugly to himself. 

“Yeah?” Calum asks, he thinks Michael is ridiculous. 

“Yeah. Made the noodles and stuff, but I can’t make the sauce like you, so I just took some from a jar. I ate bread with it.” He says. It’s nonsense, none of it matters. But he knows Calum cares. Not necessarily about what he ate for dinner, or any of the other bullshit he’ll talk about until the sun rises, but about Michael in general. Talking about everyday things makes him feel better, like things are more under control. 

Calum hums. 

“And before you ask, no, I didn’t eat any of your rabbit food.” He says, and Calum laughs gently. 

“It’s good for you.” Calum points out, and Michael rolls his eyes. 

“So is pizza, but you don’t ever seem to want to eat that.” 

“I love pizza, what are you talking about?” 

“You eat it with...weird things on it.” 

“Pineapple isn’t weird, Mikey.” Calum sighs, they’ve had this talk many times. 

“You’re right, it’s plain evil.”

“Luke likes it.” 

“Cal, are you trying to prove your point or mine?” Michael asks with a laugh. 

“I think Luke is a quality source to back me up.” Calum says. 

“There is nothing resourceful about Luke.” Michael points out. It’s weird, to talk about someone who isn’t even there. It’s even weirder to talk about someone else for once. It’s always been just the two of them. 

“I don’t know...he’s a pretty good guitar player.” Calum says. 

“He plays guitar?” Michael asks. They’ve never had this talk. 

“Yeah.” Calum says slowly. “He played for me after school the other day. He’s really good.” 

Suddenly, Michael feels a painful twist in his stomach. It’s weird, he’s never felt anything like it, but it absolutely  _ burns.  _ With horror, Michael realizes that it’s  _ jealousy. _

“Wow. I didn’t know.” He says. His voice doesn’t sound right, and he’ll be damned if Calum didn’t catch it, but knows his friend won’t push it. 

“Maybe he’s just shy.” Calum offers. 

“He played for you.” Michael whines. He doesn’t know why this is bothering him so much. 

“I was nice to him the first time we met. I’m nice to him all the time.” 

“Are you saying he’s scared of me?” 

Calum is quiet for a second. 

“No.” He decides after a long ten seconds. “I don’t think he’s afraid of you, I think he’s just...intimidated by you.” 

Michael snorts.

“He doesn’t seem very intimidated when he elbowed me in the head earlier today.” 

Calum laughs. 

“I think that just might be his personality, y’know? He’s a little spastic.” 

“God, Calum, that is the  _ perfect _ word.” Michael laughs. He’s glad no one is in his house right now, or he’d definitely wake them up. Calum laughs too. 

“I think I’ll call him that tomorrow.” Calum says, and then something weird happens. There’s a bang on Calum’s side, and what sounds very, very suspiciously like a door swinging open. Then a muffled male voice, and then Calum’s. It takes Michael a second to realize that Calum probably has his phone stuffed underneath his pillow, which explains the muffled sound. 

There’s another bang, and then a high pitched noise, that when Michael thinks about it, sounds almost like a whine. He stays quiet as he hears more of the voice, then Calum’s, then a very, very loud bang. After a long wait of holding his breath, Calum’s voice finally came back to him. 

“Sorry.” 

“It’s alright.” Michael says hastily. Calum sniffles. 

“I...um. I think I should go to bed. School tomorrow.” He whispers, it’s so quiet, Michael can barely hear him. 

“Okay.” Michael says, all his amusement from earlier gone. He’d had his suspicions about Calum’s home, but this...this might’ve just confirmed it. “I’ll see you in the morning. I love you, Cal.” 

Calum sniffles again. 

“Yeah, I love you too Mikey.” 

Calum hangs up, leaving Michael to deal with the haunting sounds of his best friend crying as he tries to fall asleep. 

 

-

 

“Mr. Hood, can I see you please?” 

Michael and Luke both groan as Mr. Fucking Feldmann (as Michael’s taken to calling him) calls Calum to his desk. They were just about to leave, and sit through the next few classes before they could go home and splurge on food and video games. Calum just smiles at them, and pats Michael’s wrist while he walks over. Michael lingers in the doorway, Luke right beside him. 

“Mr. Clifford, feel free to leave.” Mr. Feldmann says. 

“Not without him.” He says, nodding to Calum. Mr. Feldmann rolls his eyes. 

“He’ll be fine, I won’t bite.”

Michael feels a wave of anger and worry. 

“C’mon, mate, let’s go.” Luke says, grabbing Michael’s elbow. Michael lets Luke drag him out reluctantly, only just catching a glimpse of Calum’s worried eyes. 

“He’ll be okay.” Luke assures, his fingers squeezing the inside of Michael’s elbow for a second before pulling his hand away. Michael feels weird about having Luke’s hands on him. It’s not bad, just...weird. He and Luke walk to their next class slowly, waiting for Calum to catch up with them. 

He doesn’t. 

In fact, he doesn’t join the two of them until ten minutes in of their second-to-last class when he comes stumbling in, handing their teacher a note with seemingly apologetic eyes. He scrambles to his seat in between the two of them, a mad blush on his cheeks. 

Michael wants to ask how it went, what the dude wanted, but he doesn’t. Luke does instead. 

“What the hell was that about?” He asks bluntly. Calum smiles softly to himself. 

“I’ll tell you guys after school.” He says quietly, and yep, that’s good enough for Michael. 

“C’mon, Cal.” Luke whines, just about falling out of his chair with his dramatics. Michael rolls his eyes. Luke’s flannel is falling off of his shoulder, obviously a hand-me-down, making him look even more pitiful than usual, but he’s no match for Calum. 

“Sorry, Lukey. You’ll just have to wait.” He says. Michael smirks at Luke, who in turn, flips him off with attitude. 

“Assholes.” 

“You love us.” Michael says, flicking a tiny ball of paper at Luke, who squeals when it hits him dangerously close to his eye. 

“No, I definitely hate you.” Luke says, turning away from his friends, retaliating by giving them some sort of cold-shoulder. Michael laughs at him, and Calum sends him a soft smile, which seem to have no effect. 

All well. 

By the time the final bell of the day rings, Luke had been chatting with Calum, completely forgetting his plan of ignoring both of them. Michael was in a different class, so that didn’t really count. The three of them split to get to their lockers, and as always, Michael is the first to be finished. He shoves everything in his backpack, and hustles to Calum, who is just just putting his history book away when Max comes by and slaps his ass. Calum yelps, jumping forward. Michael watches, with absolute guilt in his stomach, as his ass bounces from the slap in his leggings. He shouldn’t like that, but it causes a bright blush rise to his cheeks, and a wave of  _ want _ pours over him. He swallows it down quickly, feeling absolutely submerged in shame, and walks to him, shoving Max into a locker on his way. Max smirks at him, but doesn’t retaliate.

Calum’s ears are bright red when Michael gets to him, zipping up his bag. He looks at Michael, embarrassed. 

“That hurt.” He says quietly. Michael gives him a sad smile, shame still visible on his cheeks. 

“Yeah. It looked like it did.” He says. Calum frowns, but doesn’t say anything more as Michael leads the way to Luke. 

When they get to the blonde’s locker, they find him with the door open, not-so-discreetly staring at a Year 11 girl talk with her boyfriend. He’s watching with interest, and Michael can practically see the stiffie he has going on. 

“Luke.” Calum says, grabbing his attention. The blonde yelps, and accidentally hits his head on his locker, drawing the attention of the girl and her boyfriend. Luke’s cheeks immediately fill with heat as he turns to his friends, shrinking into his baggy flannel. 

Michael looks at the girl. He’s never talked to her before, but Luke definitely has good taste. 5’4”, long auburn hair braided over her shoulder, freckles splashed across her nose. She’s wrapped up in a sweater, most likely to combat the cool weather, and she’s pretty. Michael wouldn’t mind getting to know her a little better. 

Luke looks at them, his entire face inflamed, looking incredibly sheepish. Calum giggles, and Michael rolls his eyes. 

“C’mon, squirt.” He says, throwing an arm around Luke’s shoulders, pulling him away from his locker. “Let’s go home.” 

Luke scowls under his arm, but his blush hasn’t gone away, so Michael knows he doesn’t mind. 

“I’m just as tall as you, Mikey. Stop calling me  _ squirt _ .” He whines, but Michael just laughs as he steers them out of the school, Calum walking alongside. Ever since they’d watched Nemo a few weeks back, and Michael noticed the  _ uncanny  _ resemblance between Luke and the baby turtle, he just had to start calling him squirt. It stuck quite well actually. Luke looked like a squirt. 

“Never.” He says, climbing into the car with his friends, Luke in the back, Calum in the front. 

“So, who were you looking at, Lukey?” Calum asks, wiggling his eyebrows at the younger, who immediately scowls. 

“No one.” He says stubbornly. Both the boys in the front laugh. 

“That’s bullshit, your face was practically glued to the crack in your locker door.” Michael says, turning onto the road. 

“Was not.” Luke says, cheeks burning. 

“It so was.” Calum laughs. “So, who is she?” 

“I think her name is Annie.” Luke says eventually, crossing his arms over his chest. Michael furrows his eyebrows when he sees the  _ thing _ in Luke’s eyes again. He wished he knew what it was. 

“Annie Palmer?” Michael asks. “The actress chick?” 

Calum nods. 

“Yeah. I think that’s her.” 

“Sorry, Lukey. She’s definitely got a boyfriend.” Michael says, tossing his friend a sympathetic look. 

“How do you know?” Luke pouts. Calum snickers. 

“Her and Ashton have been sleeping together since like...kindergarten.” 

“Ew.” Luke says, scrunching his nose. “Who the hell is Ashton?” 

The  _ thing  _ in Luke’s eyes is shining bright, and Michael wonders if Calum notices it too. 

“Ashton Irwin.” Calum says eventually. “Football goalie. Drama and art kid. He’s super nice, but..I’ve heard some of the things that he and Annie do...I wouldn’t get too close to either of them, Lukey.” 

Luke blanches a little. 

“Why?” He asks, quiet and shy, like when they first met him. 

“Because.” Michael snorts as he turns onto his road. “I’m pretty sure you can get an STD by looking at either of them.” 

Calum hits Michael’s bicep, Michael laughs, and Luke gets paler. 

“Oh.” He says eventually. 

“Hey,” Michael says, pulling into his driveway. “Don’t be sad, squirt. Annie isn’t that great anyway, she’s an actress, a literal drama queen.” 

Calum rolls his eyes again, and Luke looks away from Michael, seemingly disappointed. 

“Right.” He mutters, suddenly interested in the laces of his Converse. Calum frowns, and when they get out of the car, he slings an arm around Luke’s waist, making the younger smile softly. 

“Hey.” Calum says, nuzzling his nose into Luke’s neck. “Don’t frown at me, Hemmo.” 

Nothing like a nickname to bring a smile to Luke’s face. 

“You can’t use nicknames against me, Calum.” He says eventually. Michael rolls his eyes at them, and walks into his house. 

“Unless you two want to make out in the garage, I suggest you come inside before I lock you out.” He says with sass, moving away from the door. Luke and Calum both let out offended squeaks. 

“We’re not going to  _ make out _ .” Calum says, stepping into the house. 

Luke fakes offense. 

“We’re not?” He asks, walking straight into Michael’s kitchen and opening the refrigerator. 

“Sorry Lukey.” Calum says, plopping down in the barstool. Michael leans on the counter, and Luke joins them quickly, hopping onto the counter, eating a slice of leftover pizza. 

“You’re a damn freeloader.” Michael says, directing Luke’s pizza holding hand to his mouth so he can bite off of the slice. 

“There was no name on it, free game.” Luke says, his cheeks bugging out like a fucking chipmunk. Michael hates him. 

“Who’s did you think it was, no one lives here!” Michael sasses, and Luke, in all his sixteen-year-old maturity, plugs his ears and pretends not to listen. 

“Sorry, what was that? I can’t hear you!” He says, sticking his tongue out. Michael is ready to shove him off the counter when Calum interrupts them. 

“Ladies!” He yells, gaining both Luke and Michael’s attention. “Can you stop acting like five year olds? I have news.” 

Luke seems to have remembered why he (tried to) ignored his friends in the first place. 

“Oh yeah!” He says, all but bouncing up and down on the granite. “What is it?” 

Michael leans on his elbows, closer to his best friend, raising a curious eyebrow. 

“Mr. Feldmann wanted to talk to me today, remember?” He says, Michael nods. “He asked me if I’d ever been in a play.” 

Michael smirks. 

“Don’t give me that look, Mikey.” He says, and Michael’s smirk breaks into his genuine smile. 

“Did he ask you to be in it?” 

“He asked me to audition for it.” Calum says, his excitement leaking through. Michael loves seeing him like this. 

“Isn’t the play  _ Beauty and the Beast  _ this year?” Luke asks, chowing down Michael’s beloved pizza. “What does he want you to be, like Cogsworth or something?” 

Calum shakes his head, biting his lip to contain what Michael is assuming a smile. 

“He wants me to be Belle.” 

Luke’s eyes widen, and Michael’s face splits into a grin. 

“That’s awesome, Cal.” He says, and Luke gives him a confused look. 

“He wants you to be a  _ girl? _ Isn’t that kinda weird?” Luke asks. It’s not judgemental, just confused. 

“No. Men played women all the time in Shakespeare’s plays.” Calum pointed out. Michael grinned again. 

“Yeah Luke.” He said, shoving his younger friend, who shrugged, and continued eating his pizza. 

“That’s cool, Cally. When are auditions?” He asks through a mouthful. 

“Two weeks. He gave me the scripts today.” Calum says. Michael can literally  _ feel  _ the excitement radiating off of him. 

“I’m sure you’ll do great.” Luke says with a genuine smile, patting Calum’s head. 

“Thanks Lukey.” Calum says, his cheeks reddening a little. 

“Well,” Michael says, crossing his arms. “I believe this calls for celebration.” 

Luke’s eyes widen. 

“Does this mean what I think it means?” He asks, Michael nods. 

“Lucas, hand me my cell phone. I have a pizza to order.”

Calum rolls his eyes.


	12. Teal

A couple days later, on Friday, Luke invites the two of them to crash at his place. 

Michael agrees, barely hearing the question because of trying to help Brendan with his math worksheet. Brendan isn’t very high on Michael’s “friend” list, but he isn’t the worst person ever, and he’s extremely nice to Luke, so Michael occasionally does some nice things for him. Calum, however, goes a little pale at Luke’s invitation. 

“Uhm.” He says. Michael finally realizes that Luke didn’t exactly get the memo. 

“Calum doesn’t stay the night.” Michael says distractedly. He has enough sense to see the look Calum gives him. Immense gratefulness. Michael shakes his head, because really, it’s nothing. 

“Doesn’t stay the night?” Luke squawks. “Why in the  _ hell-”  _

Luke is about to continue when Michael shoots him a look over his shoulder. It takes a second, but it finally dawns on Luke. Calum doesn’t ask what Michael’s told him. 

“Right.” Luke mutters, probably feeling really stupid as Michael could imagine. “Dinner then?” He asks Calum, who nods with a regretful smile. 

“Mikey, I suppose you could stay the night.” Luke says, and Michael thinks he might see the  _ tiniest _ hint of a blush on his cheeks. 

“Yeah, Luke.” Michael says, coming back over to his friends, sinking down beside Calum, who looks a little embarrassed. 

“Hey,” He says, butting Calum with his elbow. “you good?” 

“Yeah.” He answers, avoiding Michael’s eyes. 

“C’mon, bud. I’ll drive.” He says, reaching a hand to the back of Calum’s head, petting his curls gently before letting him go. Calum had leant into his touch, and offered him a little smile when Michael pulled his hand away. 

Next to Michael, Brendan squeaks out:

“Seriously, I can't believe you two  _ aren't  _ dating.”

Michael rolls his eyes, and ignores him.

“We can’t leave yet.” 

“Yes we can. It’s the last class of the day, I’m not even supposed to be in here with you... _ smart _ people.” He says, like the mere existence of intelligent people offends him. Calum smiles. 

“Hey Michael?” Mikey looks over at Luke, who’s typing away at his phone. 

“Can you drop me off at home after school?” He asks. “I need to do some like... _ heavy _ cleaning before y’all come over.” 

Michael nods. 

“You better start paying me for chauffeuring your little ass around, Hemmings.” He says. Luke turns a little pink. 

“It’s not  _ that _ little.” He mutters, and Calum full-on laughs at that. 

“What?” He asks defensively, a pout on his lips. 

“Nothing, Lu, it’s just that...well you have a tiny ass.” Calum says in a soft voice. Luke’s pout deepens. 

“No I don’t!” He whines. 

“You so do.” Calum teases. 

“Mikey.” Luke whines, giving his older friend blue puppy dog eyes. 

“Awe, Calum, leave the kid alone, it’s not his fault his ass is tiny.” 

Luke looks betrayed. 

“You guys are the worst. Forget what I said, you can stay home and starve. “ He sasses, but Michael is quick to fix it, going over to his desk and ruffling his hair, destroying his fringe. 

“Don’t be like that, squirt.” He says, making the younger scowl and flatten his hair with his free hand. 

“Fine.” He says eventually. “But you’re buying me ice cream later tonight, Michael Clifford.” 

“God.” Michael groans, looking at Calum. “Did you hear what he just called me?” 

Calum smirks. 

“He does it too.” 

“Does what?” Luke asks, Calum chuckles. 

“Michael has a tendency to pick up the things you say. You just picked up something I say.”Calum says with a shrug. Luke gives him a crooked look. 

“I call him by his first and last name all the time.” He says casually. Luke shrugs. 

“Well, it’s better than picking up the things  _ he _ says.” He says with a smirk to Michael. Michael flips him off, and gives him a noogie. 

The more he thinks about it, Luke’s really not that bad. 

 

-

 

Dinner at Luke’s is... _ odd _ to say the least. 

When Calum and Michael knocked on the door, they were surprised when someone who was not Luke, but looked an  _ awful _ lot like him, opened the door. 

“Who are you?” He asked, with a raised eyebrow. He was tall, taller than Michael, with messy blonde hair and stubble along his jawline. Michael wasn’t stupid, he knew who he was. 

“We’re friends of Luke.” Michael says eventually. The guy nods, and holds the door open. 

“Pipsqueak said he had some friends coming over for dinner.” 

Michael and Calum both nod, and squeeze into the house. 

“Luke, your friends are here!” The guy called up the stairs. Then he’s gone, disappearing down a hallway without another word. Michael and Calum are left standing in the cozy little landing, listening to the footsteps above their head as Luke comes pattering down the stairs. 

He lands beside them a little breathless, with a giant smile on his face. 

“Hey guys.” He says. His hair is pushed back, Michael thinks he might’ve been sitting in front of window or something. 

“Hey squirt.” Michael says, Calum smiles at him with a nod. Michael knows he won’t be talking much tonight, not with so many strangers in one place. He’s wearing black skinny jeans and one of Michael’s Metallica t-shirts with a flannel over the top and black Vans. Minimal makeup, not enough to notice unless you pay close attention. He’s dressing cautiously. 

“Yeah, so dinner won’t be ready for a while, so I thought we could just go hang out upstairs.” Luke says with a smile. Michael nods. 

“Sure.” He says, and then Luke is leading them upstairs like an excited dog, taking two steps at a time. Michael shakes his head fondly, and Calum squeezes his wrist. Michael gives him a long look. 

Luke’s room is about as typical it gets. Right now it’s not that bad, because Luke did some “heavy cleaning” before they got here, but Michael can see that a lot of his clothes have been shoved under his bed. There’s posters covering every available inch of wall space, shelves covered in books and guitar picks, and an acoustic guitar on a stand in a corner. At the end of Luke’s bed, which is very  _ very  _ hastily made, there’s a little box t.v., along with an X-box. Michael likes the set up. As Luke fiddles with the gaming system, Michael scans over the walls, and he doesn’t find a  _ single _ picture with him and his family. 

Weird. 

“Who answered the door, Lukey?” Calum asks as he studies the books on Luke’s shelf. Luke hums. 

“It was probably one of my brothers. Did he smile when he opened the door?” He asks, picking out the Fifa game. 

“No.” Calum giggled. “He was actually kind of scary.” 

“Yeah. That one’s Jack.” Luke says. Suddenly, his expression, is  _ guarded _ which is just….Michael doesn’t understand. 

“You have more?” 

“Just one other one.” Luke shrugs, plopping onto the bed next to Michael, landing half on him. Michael rolls his eyes, but doesn’t move him. “Ben. He’s older, Year 12.” 

Michael snorts, and Calum nods. 

“How come we haven’t seen them around?” Calum asks, sitting down on the end of the bed while Luke digs out a second controller for Michael. 

“Oh. They go the big private school on this side of town.” Luke shrugs, starting a game. 

“The one you got kicked out of.” Michael says, poking Luke in the side, making him squeal and squirm away. 

“I told you, I didn’t get  _ kicked out. _ ” Luke says, elbowing Michael. Calum giggles. 

“You never told us what happened.” Calum says, and Luke purses his lips. Michael can feel his body tense up. 

“Maybe that’s because it wasn’t important.” Luke say, in a very not-Luke-like way. Michael raises an eyebrow, and Calum raises two. Luke’s cheeks are a little pink. Michael pauses that game, and rest his controller on the floor. 

“Hey, squirt.” He says, dropping his head onto Luke’s shoulder. “What’s wrong? ” 

Calum crawls up with them, and drops onto the other side of Luke, watching. 

“Nothing.” Luke mutters. He looks flustered. 

“Lukey.” Calum says, his tone is almost chastising. Luke sighs. 

“Nothing, it’s just my old school...I don’t really know how to talk about it.” Luke says, Michael turning his head in his nuzzle his shoulder. 

“Just talk. We don’t judge.” 

“Ever.” Calum says, sitting criss crossed next to his friends. 

Luke opens his mouth to say something, his eyebrows drawn together, but before he can, his bedroom door is  _ slammed _ open. Michael jerks in shock, nearly falling off the bed, and the worst part, Calum  _ shrinks _ away from the door, his eyes wide and  _ terrified _ . Luke just looks bored as he sees his brother standing in the doorway, this one, Michael is assuming, is Ben. 

“Dinner, asshole.” He says, holding the door handle.

“Thank you, Ben.” Luke says sarcastically, sitting up. “You can always just yell for me.” 

“Mum doesn’t like yelling.” Ben says as he scans over the room. Luke snorts. 

“Since when do you listen to  _ mum?” _ Luke asks, climbing off the bed, his friends doing the same. 

“Since it involves annoying you.” Ben says, pinching Luke’s cheek sarcastically before strutting out of the room. Michael is surprised to find Luke not just mad, but positively  _ steaming _ when he gets to him. In a weird turn of events, Michael adopts Calum’s habit, and wraps his fingers around Luke’s wrist, and squeezes. Luke gives him a weird look, but that  _ thing _ is in his eyes again, so Michael knows he had an effect. 

“C’mon, lovebirds. Food.” Calum says, pushing at their backs. Michael goes easily, but for a second, it seems as though Luke is stuck to the ground. By the time he finally moves, Calum and Michael are both worried, and they let Luke pass them. Michael runs his hand through Calum’s hair before they go down, because he saw the look on Calum’s face when that door was slammed open.

“I’m right here. You know that right? Nothing bad will happen when I’m here, Cal.” He says, and the younger nods. 

“Thanks Mikey.” He says, and Michael smiles before following Luke down the stairs. 

Now, Michael knows absolutely nothing about Luke’s family, he just had his assumptions. He figured that Mrs. Hemmings was an amazing cook and a sweet lady that smelled nice, and that Mr. Hemmings was a big man who smiled lots, and that Luke’s brothers made fun of him, but loved him nonetheless. On paper, it sounded perfect, everything matched up, especially with the look of the house. Michael didn’t know that things were different. 

Luke led them into the dining room, and sat them down at the table, fortunately Michael and Calum were right next to each other. Then Luke disappeared into the kitchen.

“What the hell?” Michael said to Calum, who giggled. 

“I don’t know.” He said, shaking his head. Michael was just about to make a snippy remark when they were joined in the dining room. 

“Hello.” 

Michael and Calum both looked at up at the man who had joined them. Close-cropped, grey hair, wide shoulders, and a white button-up with a loosened tie. Obviously Luke’s father. 

“Hi.” Michael said. 

“I take it that you’re Michael and Calum?” He asked, pointing to Michael when he said ‘Calum’. 

“Actually, I’m Calum, that’s Michael.” Calum straightened out, and the man smiled. 

“Ah. Sorry, I’m getting a little old.” He says, and Michael nods. The man sits down at the head of the table, like a proper father, and it’s quiet. It’s awkward, obviously, so Michael understands when Calum rests his palm on his thigh. 

Finally, Luke comes back, bearing three cups filled with water, and a half-smile. He sets the cups down, and sits down across from Michael. 

“Hi Dad.” He says, smiling at his father. 

“Hey Luke.” His dad says, smiling at his youngest son. “How was school?” 

Luke shrugs. 

“It was alright. Nothing special.” He says. Mr. Hemmings nods. 

“Any homework?” He asks. 

“Just a little bit of math homework I think.” He says, obviously thinking if he had any more. 

“Okay.” Andrew says, smiling at his wife as she walks in. She’s almost exactly what Michael expected. Short and plump, blonde and blue-eyed with a friendly smile and a large pan of lasagne. “Let me know if you need any help, I’ll do my best.” 

Michael tasted that familiar bitterness on his tongue as jealousy unfurled in his stomach. He wondered what it was like to come home to a family...to a father that asked how his day was and offer to help with homework. It was bizarre, and Michael  _ wanted  _ it. One look at Calum, and Michael knew he felt the same. 

When Jack walked in, smelling of faded cologne and confidence, Michael squeezed Calum’s fingers. They shared an important look. 

“Good lord, mum, this looks so good.” Jack said, sniffing the pan. 

“Jack, sit down.” Mr Hemmings said, making the older Hemmings brother scowl. Luke looked into his glass. A few minutes of Mr. Hemmings asking Jack about his day later, Mrs. Hemmings returned with Ben, both holding things. Mrs. Hemmings had a plate of rolls, and Ben held a bowl of-

“Rabbit foot.” Michael whispered  _ quietly _ into Calum’s ear. The younger let out a little laugh, drawing Luke’s attention. The expression of jealousy was impossible to miss. 

_ Good _ . Michael thought bitterly. _ Be jealous.  _

“Well.” Mrs. Hemmings said as she sat down. “Shall we?” 

Everyone muttered in agreement, and just like that, they dug in, Jack and Ben almost immediately wrestling for the rolls while Mr. Hemmings tried to sort it out, and Luke just rolled his eyes while he served a little bit of salad onto his plate. 

“Sorry.” He said to his two friends. “They’re assholes.” 

“Luke!” Mrs. Hemmings screeched. “Language, young man.” 

Luke went a little pink, and slid the rabbit food bowl over to his friends. Calum took it with a smile, and loaded some onto his plate, and after a mini eye war between him and Michael, put some on Michael’s plate as well. Michael scowled. 

The older Hemmings brothers had finally settled down, and were civilly sipping from their glasses as their plates filled with dinner. Mr. Hemmings asked Liz, who was apparently a school teacher, about her day. And it was weird for Michael...seeing the undisputable  _ love _ between the two adults. Michael didn’t know that existed. His parent’s marriage always seemed more like a business contract than love. Michael had been an accident. 

“So,” Mrs. Hemmings said, turning to Michael and Calum. “you two go to school with Luke?” 

Michael nodded. 

“Yes ma’am.” Calum said quietly, pushing his lasagne with his fork. 

“Can’t believe Luke actually made friends.” Ben muttered, and Mr. Hemmings shot him a look while Luke’s fist tightened on his fork. 

Mrs. Hemmings ignored her  oldest  son, and continued to look at Michael and Calum. 

“Luke says you two have been friends for a long time?” 

“Yep. Since about Year 4 I think.” Michael says. Mrs. Hemmings’ eyes widened. 

“Wow. None of my kids have ever had a friend that long.” She says, and Luke pales a little. 

“Um, excuse me, we have, Luke just is allergic to friends.” Ben says, and Jack chuckles. 

“I think you mean  _ they’re  _ allergic to  _ him.” _ He snorts. Michael has never seen his friend glare so hard. 

“Boys.” Mrs. Hemmings reprimands. “Sorry, it’s just that...Luke’s always... _ struggled  _ a little with the social aspect of school.” 

Luke goes completely red. Now, Michael isn’t exactly an expert on mums or anything, but holy shit, he doesn’t think  _ that’s  _ supposed to happen. 

“A little?” Ben asks with a laugh. It seems that the Hemmings family is doing their best to embarrass the youngest member. Maybe it’s a rite of passage or something. 

“We’re just really happy that he’s finally made some friends, and it seems like he’s made some good ones.” She smiles, warm and happy.  _ Deceiving _ Michael thinks. 

“Oh.” Calum says gently. 

“Yeah, we’re um, we’re not going anywhere. Luke’s pretty cool.” Michael says, making his younger friend shoot him a smile from across the table. 

“ _ Cool? _ ” Ben asks, shoving a piece of roll into his mouth. “Are you mental, mate?” 

Calum’s hand, which hasn’t left Michael’s leg, tenses. 

“I don’t think so.” Michael says, he’s bristling, getting defensive, he can tell. He needs to calm down. He sets his hand on top of Calum’s, and feels better right away. Ben just snorts, and continues to eat. Mr. Hemmings is quiet. 

“So, are you two…” Mrs. Hemmings asks them, moving her eyes between the two. Michael glances at Luke, who has finally looked up from his plate. The  _ thing _ is in his eyes. 

“No.” Michael says. 

“Friends.” Calum confirms. 

“Oh,” Mrs. Hemmings says. “forgive me.” 

“It’s alright, we get asked that a lot.” Michael shrugs, and maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say, because he gets a twisted grin from Jack. 

“Of course, we wouldn’t have a problem with that.” Mrs. Hemmings tacks on. Luke goes pale, and looks back down at his plate. Michael nods slowly. 

“That’s um...good to know.” He says, maybe a little rude, but he doesn’t really care. 

“This lasagna is really, really good, Mrs. Hemmings.” Calum covers for him, of course, and Michael squeezes his hand in thanks. 

“Oh, thank you dear.” She lights up, she send Luke a little glance, but the boy hasn’t looked up from his plate. Michael feels incredibly bad for him. “You really are sweet.” 

Calum beams with the praise. Michael wonders if his mum ever praised him. Michael’s never did. 

Michael suddenly tells himself that he’s being ridiculous. He should  _ not _ be jealous of his friend just because he has something that he doesn’t. It’s obvious that Luke  _ isn’t  _ happy here, and that’s  _ nothing _ to be jealous of. He’s being selfish. 

The rest of dinner passes by normally, or as normal as Michael can imagine. Ben and Jack talk about football, and bicker over who's better, and Mr. Hemmings listens and mediates. Mrs. Hemmings continues to make conversation with Calum, going so far as to ask him what kind of mascara he uses, which makes Calum absolutely  _ beam  _ in happiness. It’s only Michael and Luke who aren’t talking with anyone, just slowly eating. Luke doesn’t look up from his plate after that weird moment with his mum. Michael feels like a piece of him is destroyed when he sees Luke like this. His little light shouldn’t  _ ever  _ be dim. Michael hears Ben throw something out about how Luke was never good enough to play football, and also hears his father agree. His heart breaks a little bit more when he’s the only one to see Luke sniff, and wipe his eyes with his sleeve. 

Things are  _ never _ as easy as he wants them to be.


	13. Opaque

Calum leaves a few minutes after dinner, thanking the Hemmings parents over and over again before he leaves the house, and climbs into, surprisingly, his mum’s car. Michael doesn’t know how to feel about Calum’s mother, but right now, he has something else to worry about. 

Luke had gone up to his room quietly after saying goodbye to Calum, and Michael needs to talk with him. Or, at least try to understand. 

As he moves to go upstairs, he sees Ben, Jack, and Mr. Hemmings in the living room, watching a football game on the t.v., and he can hear Mrs. Hemmings wash dishes in the kitchen. He takes a second to wonder if this is what life is supposed to be like. It seems nice. But then he remembers that there’s another member of the family upstairs, and things seem way less perfect than before. 

Upstairs, Luke is sitting on the end of his bed, his guitar in his hands. He’s strumming something out while resting his head on the end of the guitar. He looks small. Michael hates it. 

He walks to Luke, and gently takes the guitar from his hands, setting it on the bed. Luke gives him dull eyes, and  _ no.  _ That’s wrong, those blue eyes should be  _ bright  _ and happy, and everything Michael needs. 

“C’mon.” Michael says, taking Luke’s hands, and lifting him off the bed. 

“Where’re going?” Luke asks. His voice is heavy and wrong. 

“To get ice cream.” Michael says, grabbing his wallet from his bag. 

“Ice cream?” Luke asks. Michael nods. 

“Sugar always makes me feel better.” He says. “I used to eat, like, a gallon of vanilla ice cream when my parents would leave.” 

Luke gives Michael a  _ look.  _ The  _ thing  _ is in his eyes, of course, and Michael is starting to think that he might understand. 

“Oh.” He says. 

“Yeah.” Michael agrees, and he grabs Luke’s flannel jacket, throwing it over the younger’s shoulders. “Now let’s go, before I change my mind.” 

Luke smiles a little, and follows Michael down the stairs. 

“Dad,” Luke says, walking into the living room, standing behind the couch, where his father is. His father grunts, not looking away from the t.v. “Mikey and I are going out for a few minutes.” 

Mr. Hemmings grunts again. 

“Be back by ten.” He says eventually. Luke nods, and walks back out of the living room, to Michael. 

“Sorry about them.” He whispers, and Michael shakes his head, opening the door for Luke.

“You’re okay.” He says, unlocking the car as the cool air whips his face. He hopes Luke gets what he means. 

In the car, Michael turns on  _ Dirty Work _ , an obvious favourite of Luke’s. It soothes him, Michael can see it, and it makes the ride to the ice cream shop on the west side of town easier. The tension leaves Luke’s chest, and it makes them both feel better. 

When they get to Twisty’s, it’s packed, naturally. A Friday night on the west side of town, Michael should have known. Maybe this wasn’t the best choice. The natural introvert of Michael has decided to make itself known, and Luke isn’t exactly in the best condition, but Michael knows that Luke’s favourite treat in the world comes from Twisty’s, so he’s not about to give up. 

“C’mon, then.” He says, parking his car, and leading Luke in. Luke’s eyes are a little red and puffy, and he’s glancing around nervously, but Michael tries not to let that distract him. 

They walk in, and are immediately overwhelmed. The music playing through the speaker is the Worst Top 40 (that’s what Michael calls it), and there are people  _ everywhere _ . Michael just grits his teeth, and muscles his way up to the front counter, Luke by his side. Luke looks small right now, in his too-big shirt and red eyes. Michael kind of wants to hold his hand to make sure he doesn’t get lost or taken or anything. 

They place their orders, and Michael throws the girl a twenty without asking any other questions, telling her to keep the change. She’s obviously busy enough. They stand off to the side, and people watch, waiting for their ice cream. Luke seems to see someone he knows, because he turns away from the crowd of people, and studies the menu until their treats come. 

Michael grabs them, Luke concoction of vanilla and strawberry, and his own mud shake. He hands Luke his ice cream, and sips from his own. He’s about to muscle his way through the door when a disgusting voice jeers at them from the side. 

“Well, if it isn’t little Luke Hemmings.” 

Michael snaps his head to look at the culprit, a tall, bony kid with thick brown curls and a pretty girl by his side. Michael immediately feels threatened, and takes a step closer to Luke. 

“Hi Shay.” Luke says quietly. He’s scared, Michael can tell, but nothing about his body language suggests submission. 

“How’s the transfer going, Hemmings?” He asks, perfect teeth glinting in the light as he smiles. 

“Good.” Luke says with a swallow. Shay looks over at Michael. 

“Not bad, Hemmo.” He sneers. “See you finally found someone.” 

Luke goes a little pale. 

“That’s not-” 

“Oh, so he doesn’t want you to suck his cock either?” Shay says with an evil grin. Michael’s stomach twists into knots. “Not surprised.” 

Luke is completely pale and shaking now, looking like he’s seconds away from crying. Michael reaches one hand down, and intertwines their fingers. 

“Fuck off.” He says to the kid, who laughs. Michael doesn’t care, he just pulls Luke through the shop, to the door, and into his car. 

He pulls out of the parking lot quickly, not letting Luke look back. The ride back is quick, Luke sits in the passenger seat, letting his ice cream melt into a puddle of pink. The color makes Michael think of Calum, and god, he wishes his pretty, more insightful friend was here. Michael ruins everything. 

At Luke’s house, Michael guides Luke upstairs, taking off his jacket once the younger boy is seated on the bed. The younger is shaking, and slow, silent tears are falling down his cheeks. 

“Luke?” Michael asks. Luke doesn’t respond. 

“Squirt, please don’t cry.” Michael says, wiping away the youngers tears. Luke cried harder. 

“I’m so sorry, Mikey.” 

“Luke.” Michael says, rubbing the younger’s cheeks. 

“I’m gay.” Luke says, Michael knows. After all those things that kid said, Michael figured it out. 

“I know. It’s alright.” Michael says, wiping away tears.

“I left the private school because there was this...boy. Really pretty boy. He  _ saw _ me, y’know, Mikey? He was my friend. My only one...but still my friend.” Luke explains, his voice catching as he hiccups. Michael scoots on the bed, and pulls Luke with him, making the younger cuddle into his side. “I...I guess I just misread things, I don’t know. I kissed him one day, and he...he threw a fit. Told the principal that I tried to  _ rape _ him.” 

Michael shudders, and Luke turns his face into his neck as he begins to sob. 

“I swear, Mikey, I didn’t, I just...I just wanted to kiss him, he was so pretty and so  _ nice _ . I just wanted to see what it  _ felt _ like. I never...never ever tried to...oh  _ god _ .” Luke lurched forward, like he was going to be sick. Michael hushed him, rubbing his back before pulling his little, shaking body on top of his own. This always calmed Calum down when he was young, maybe it will work for Luke. 

“It’s alright, Luke, just…” Michael tried off as Luke buried his head against his collarbone, soaking it with tears and snot. 

“Please, please don’t tell Calum.” Luke says, dark sobs still escaping his mouth. “He’ll  _ never _ look at me the same way, Mikey. All the things that those boys do to him, if he knew that I was like them...he wouldn’t talk to me.” 

“Oh squirt.” Michael says, rubbing Luke’s back. “You’re not  _ anything _ like those boys. Calum would know. He would understand.” 

“Mikey, I  _ need _ you and him, please...just please don’t tell him. If he knew....he’d treat me differently. Everything is perfect now, just...don’t. Please.” Luke cries, his sobs slowly calming down. 

“Alright, alright, Lukey, I won’t.” Michael says. 

“Promise?” Luke asks, big blue eyes scanning over Michael’s face for confirmation. 

“I promise.” He says, resting his head on top of Luke’s. “I won’t tell him, Luke, just please, please don’t cry.” 

Luke gives one more sob into Michael’s shirt. 

“Thank you, Mikey.” He says as his body stops shaking. 

Michael hums softly, and runs his hands through Luke’s hair. 

“You’re going to be alright, Lukey.” He whispers, turning into Luke’s head, kissing him gently. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Mikey.” Luke whispers. Michael shakes his head.

“You didn’t need to.” He says. Luke sighs against him. He’s stopped sobbing, and is just quietly crying on his chest. Michael wishes he could make him feel better, wishes he could portray to Luke how much he  _ means,  _ how  _ important  _ he is. But, he knows that whatever comes out of his mouth wouldn’t do it justice, so he settles for stroking Luke’s back, and occasionally planting kisses in his hair. 

Eventually, Luke stops crying, and he settles down, and it takes Michael a second to realize that he’s fallen asleep on his chest like a cat. Michael takes a deep breath, letting out shaky air. Sometimes he just hates everything. Calum and Luke have done  _ nothing _ , and the world...just does nothing but make their lives hell. It’s not fair. 

Some time later, when Michael had still not fallen asleep, the door to Luke’s room opened. It was Jack. 

“Um, hi.” Michael says awkwardly. Jack raises an eyebrow. 

“I heard him crying earlier.” Jack explains simply. 

“Yeah.” Michael says. “He was really upset.” 

“If it’s about his old school, you have to understand. He never meant to hurt anyone.” Jack says. Michael raises an eyebrow. 

“I know. He told me that.” 

“Our mum hates him.” He says out of nowhere. It shocks Michael, and he gives Jack wide eyes. 

“Why?” 

“Because he’s different. It makes him hard to love.” Jack shrugs. Michael’s chest aches. 

“Do you love him?” Michael asks. Luke mumbles something in his sleep. 

“Yeah.” Jack says. “He doesn’t think I do, because the others...Luke sees things in a weird way.” 

Michael gives him a confused look. Jack comes closer, and runs his hands through Luke’s hair. 

“I don’t think he’s hard to love.” Michael says. Jack nods. 

“That’s good.” He says. “He deserves love.” 

Michael watches the  _ fond _ shine in Jack’s eyes. 

“Don’t hurt him.” He says, looking at Michael seriously. Michael’s cheeks turn pink. 

“That’s not...I mean, I know what this looks like, but I’m not, like,  _ into _ your brother.” Michael explains awkwardly. Jack nods again, but there’s a little smirk on his face. 

“I know.” He says. “But I’ll let you in on a little secret. He likes  _ you. _ ” 

Michael goes pale, and his heart starts beating really quickly. 

“W-What?” He chokes out. 

“Whenever someone here actually pays attention to him, all he does is ramble on about you. It’s quite cute, actually.” Jack says. Michael’s chest feels really tight all of the sudden. “Don’t tell him I said that, can’t have him thinking that I actually  _ care.” _

Michael nods. 

“Yeah. I won’t.” He says, his voice sounds strained. Jack nods, and pets through Luke’s hair one last time. 

“So, seriously, don’t hurt him. It’s just a little crush, nothing he won’t get over in time, but I mean it. I might have to destroy you if that’s the case.” 

Michael nods frantically. 

“Night, mate. Take care of my brother.” 

Michael watches Jack leave the room, tightening his arms around Luke. Luke who has pretty blue eyes and a loud laugh and who cries because the world has been cruel to Calum. Luke who’s family - except one - hates him. Luke who likes him. He sighs, and buries his head in Luke’s shoulder. 

He doesn’t know how he’s going to deal with this.


	14. Cerulean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola!  
> I have no idea if anyone is reading this, but I'm gonna keep writing. :)))  
> Sorry for the cheese btw  
> Enjoy!!  
> XX-Alex

On Wednesday, Calum comes to Michael with some very pleasing news. 

“I’ve decided.” He says, leaning against the tree where Michael sometimes smokes cigarettes. 

“Decided what?” Michael chuckles, he’s trying to do his homework, but Luke keeps flicking things at him. The little blonde doesn’t know that he knows about his crush, so Michael has been determined to treat him the exact way he did before. So, putting Luke into headlocks, like he is right now, is totally allowed. 

Calum turns to them with a bright smile, brandishing a notebook, which he promptly throws at Michael. 

“What the fuck?” He asks, and Calum giggles. 

“My tattoo.” He says brightly. “I’ve decided what I want.”

Michael raises an eyebrow, but smiles at his friend, opening the notebook. 

“A tattoo?” Luke asks, flicking a ball of paper at Michael. “What in the hell, Calum?” 

“Michael and I talked about it a while back. Right before we met you.” Calum says. 

“Yes, right before we became infected with Lukeitis.” Michael says, flipping through the notebook. Luke snorts. 

“You are  _ so  _ rude.” He says, chewing on a carrot stick. 

“Holy fuck, Calum.” Michael says, flipping through the art all over the pages. It’s amazing. 

“The very last one.” Calum says, watching Michael with ease. Luke practically crawls over the table to try and see. 

“Damn, Calum.” He says, looking at the pretty boy. “These are impressive.” 

“Thanks Lukey.” Calum says, coming to sit next to Luke, stealing a carrot. Michael finally gets to the last page, and finds Calum’s decision, his breath leaves his mouth. He runs his fingers over the design, thinking about how  _ perfect _ it will look on Calum’s skin. 

“It’s beautiful.” Michael says, smiling at Calum. 

“You think?” Calum asks, and Michael nods before sliding the notebook to Luke. Luke looks at it, and his eyes widen. He smiles, and throws an arm around Calum’s shoulders. 

“That’ll look fucking awesome!” He says happily. “Where’re you getting it?” 

Michael smirks. 

“His collarbone.” He says. Calum returns his smile. 

“Exactly.” 

Luke looks between them. 

“Fucking idiots.” He mutters, getting up to throw the remainder of his lunch away. Calum laughs as he leaves. 

“Are you really going to get it?” Michael asks, looking at the feather Calum drew. 

“If you’ll drive me.” Calum says with a smirk. 

“‘course.” Michael nods. He feels excitement, of course, he’s so happy Calum took what he said seriously. 

“Then it’s decided.” Calum says, knocking his shoulder against Michael’s. Michael gave him a brilliant white smile. 

“You want to take Luke?” He asks. Calum blushes a little, and gives Michael a guilty look. 

“Can it just be you and me?” He asks. “I love Luke, but...I feel like it should just be us.” 

Michael feels his ears turn pink, but he smiles nonetheless. He reaches down, and intertwines their fingers as an answer. He understands. He loves Luke too, but some things are just for  _ them. _ Tattoos, pink lemonade, and the pier. It’s just their thing, and they would never be able to explain to Luke. 

“Yes.” He smiles. Calum offers him a cheeky smile. 

“Want to skip last period?” He asks. 

“Luke will be all alone.” 

Calum shrugs. 

“He’ll be alright.” 

Michael gives Calum another smile, and then Luke is coming back, and sitting down next to Calum, ranting about some  _ kid _ inside that  _ dared _ to try and trip him. Michael rolls his eyes and gives Calum a look. Calum shrugs. 

Michael is quite content with his own little world. 

 

-

 

“Stop messing with it.” 

“I can’t, it hurts.” Calum whines. 

“I know it does, but it will be worse if you keep messing with it.” 

“Mikey.” Calum pouts. 

“What?” Michael asks. 

“Feel bad for me.” He says, sprawling himself over his best friend. Michael snorts. 

“No, pup. You wanted the tattoo, now you have to deal with the pain. Pity free.” He says, absentmindedly running his fingers through Calum’s hair. 

“Did you just call me ‘pup’?” Calum asked, looking at Michael as he focused on the video game he was playing. Michael hums for a second before deciding. 

“Yes.” He says. Calum laughs. 

“What the hell, Mikey?” He asks with a smile. 

“You look like a puppy sometimes. I like petting you.” Michael shrugs, running his fingers through Calum’s curls again. 

“That’s so weird.” Calum says, burying his head in Michael’s neck. His warm breath on his skin feels nice. 

“You’re weird.” Michael says, laying his head on top of Calum’s. Calum snorts. 

“Will you say it again?” He asks, his voice quiet and relaxed. 

“You’re weird?” Michael says it like a question. He doesn’t understand. Calum laughs against him. 

“No. The nickname.” Calum says, hiding his face again. He’s shy. 

“No way, you laughed at me.” Michael says, pushing a button down violently on his controller. 

“Please?” Calum asks, his nose pressed to Michael’s throat. 

“Why?” He teases, letting one of his hands rub Calum’s t-shirt-covered side. 

“I like it.” Calum mutters. 

“Alright, pup.” Michael says gently, He feels Calum smile. 

“Thanks.” He whispers. Michael hums, pausing his game, and snuggling down beside his friend. He knows this is a little weird, a little too affectionate, but he doesn’t care. He’s just going to appreciate the time with Calum he has. 

“Has Luke called?” Michael asks. Calum hums, his face still tucked against Michael. 

“I don’t know.” Calum mumbles. “Is it bad that I don’t really want to check?” 

“No.” Michael laughs, his nose buried in Calum’s curls. He smells nice. “When do you have to go? It’s almost seven-” 

“Can we...not think about that right now, Mikey?” Calum asks sweetly. “I jus’ wanna be here with you.” 

Michael’s heart kind of maybe melts into a puddle. It’s times like this when he  _ seriously _ wonders why he and Calum aren’t dating. Then he remembers that he’s not  _ supposed _ to like boys. He’s  _ supposed  _ to like girls. 

Maybe he shouldn’t think about it as black and white. Maybe he should just like  _ people _ . 

“I can do that.” He says. He breathes out against Calum, ruffling his curls. He feels  _ good _ here, he doesn’t  _ want _ to ever do anything else. 

They stay like that for awhile, just tangled up in Michael’s warm bed, not thinking about anything else, including what this means. They used to cuddle all the time when they were little, before Calum became  _ pretty _ , and Michael started getting confusing boners when he got near him. Maybe they should bring back the tradition. God knows that Calum needs it, the  _ appropriate _ , loving contact that he’s starved of. Calum’s phone rings at some point, and the younger boy  _ whimpers _ into Michael’s skin, which is enough to break the older’s heart all over again while he reaches for the phone which is on his night stand. 

“Hey, it’s okay, Cal. It’s just Luke, pup.” He whispers in relief, stroking Calum’s hair, coaxing the boy to calm down. 

“Hello.” Michael says, accepting the call, and putting it on speakerphone so Calum can hear him. 

“Hey asshole.” Luke says, he sounds tired. 

“What do want, squirt?” Michael asks, sighing. Luke snorts. 

“What do you think I want?” He asks, his voice is muffled. Michael rolls his eyes as he realizes his mouth is full. 

“To tell me that you’re exiting my life forever.” Michael says flatly, tucking his arm around Calum’s waist, pulling him closer, almost so that they were spooning. Calum giggled. 

“Ha-ha.” Luke deadpans. “Excuse me, asshat, but I called  _ Calum,  _ not  _ you. _ If I had wanted to hear your asstastic comments, I would have called you.” 

Michael snorts at Luke’s sass, and Calum laughs loudly. 

“I’ve never heard anyone use the word ‘ass’ so creatively.” Calum says, laughing. 

“Yes, well,” Luke says, sounding  _ awfully _ proud of himself. “I  _ am  _ creative.” 

Michael scoffs. 

“You’re an  _ idiot _ , that’s what you are.” He says, and Luke scoffs. 

“Rude.” He points out. “ _ Anyway, _ back to me, I want to see Calum’s tattoo, since I know you jackoffs got it without me.” 

Michael goes a little pale. 

“Not you though, Cal. I’m sure it was Michael’s idea, he’s a jackoff. You’re not.” He adds on. Michael feels something twist in his stomach, and he looks at Calum, who looks guilty. 

“Luke-” Michael starts, but Luke cuts him off. 

“Save it. It’s fine. I know it’s like... _ your _ thing. I didn’t ask to go, because I knew it was for you guys.” Luke says, he laughs, but Michael can hear it, he can hear the insecurity in his voice. Calum looks at Michael with furrowed eyebrows. 

“Lewy, we’re sorry.” Calum says. 

Luke sighs. 

“Seriously, I mean it, it’s fine. Just promise me one thing.” He says. 

“Anything.” Michael says, his voice cracks. Calum raises an eyebrow at him. 

“You come with me when I get mine.” He says. Calum gasps. 

“You’re getting one?” He asks with shock. Luke laughs. 

“Well, not now, mum would  _ kill _ me, but...when I finally get out of this house, you’re coming with me.” Luke says with a genuine laugh this time. 

Michael bites his lip, thinking about Luke’s home life that Calum didn’t know about. He hated keeping things from his best friend, but when it means the safety of his other best friend...some things are just plain complicated. 

“Deal.” Calum says with a smile. 

“Sweet.” Luke says. “I want to see it. The tattoo.” 

Michael sighs. 

“You will tomorrow.” He says to his younger friend, who scoffs. 

“You think I’m going to wait that long?” He says. “You have two options. You send me a picture, or I walk all the way over to Mikey’s house and see it for myself.” 

“Luke, it’s freezing out, you can’t walk, dumbass.” 

“I want to see it.” Luke says stubbornly. Calum shrugs, and Michael sighs. 

“Alright. We’ll send you a picture, but I’m going to have to hang up on you first, mate.” Michael says. 

“Cool. Sounds like a plan. And if you hold out on that picture, I’m walking to your house Michael Clifford. You’ll feel so bad when I show up with blue lips.” 

Michael scoffs. 

“As if. I’d kick you out, send you packing back home.” 

“You could never.” Luke laughs. 

“Try me.” Michael says. 

“Asshole.” Luke says. 

“Dickhead.” Michael retorts. 

“Bye, Lukey. We’ll send you the picture. Have a good night.” Calum interrupts, taking the phone from Michael. 

“Night, Cal. Tell that beast you keep around good night. I love you guys.” 

Michael stops breathing for a second. Calum gives him wide eyes. Luke has never said that to them before. 

“Love you too, Lu.” Calum says, a little bit breathless, and then just like that, the phone is hung up, and the moment could be easily forgotten. Calum looks at Michael. 

“Did you hear him?” He asks, a wide smile on his face. Michael nods. 

“Yeah. I did.” He says, a smile on his face, and a heavy weight in his stomach. He hopes Luke is getting over his crush. 

Michael sits up slowly, disentangling Calum’s limbs from his own, ignoring the younger’s whining. He laughs at his friend, and grabs his phone again to take a picture of Calum’s tattoo that is still irritated. Just as he’s about to take it, Calum’s phone vibrates with a text. 

From:  **Dad**

_ Get home now. The amount of trouble you’re in will double if you’re not home within the next 10 minutes. _

Michael reads the text, his mouth drying up, and a wave of  _ worry _ rolling over him. Calum looks at him with a crinkly-eyed smile. He looks pretty, laying back as Michael nearly straddles his waist, it almost looks like...Michael shakes the thought from his head. 

“Luke complaining already?” He giggles. Michael feels himself pale. 

“Um. No, Cal.” He says sadly, handing the younger his phone, who takes with a confused smile. He reads the letters, and his smile fades quickly, his eyes widening. He looks at Michael, who has since sat back on his heels, staring at the bedspread. 

“I um…” Calum says. Michael swallows, his eyebrows drawn together. 

“We better get you home.” He whispers, almost silently. Calum nods. His cheeks are red, and he looks so,  _ so _ ashamed. “C’mon.” 

Calum goes easily as Michael grabs his hand and pulls him off the bed. He leads him through the house, and down into the garage quietly. In the car, upbeat music is playing, and Michael does nothing but turn it down. He doesn’t need sad music right now. 

The drive is quiet, even for them. A heavy cloud of despair is hanging over them, and Michael feels... _ suffocated _ . Calum could play it off easily, say his dad was already angry, and the worst he’d get is his phone taken away, but Michael knows better. He knows, by the way Calum looks  _ scared _ as they pull into his driveway, the way he grips the leather seat with one pretty hand, obviously reluctant to let go. 

“Calum, you don’t have to go.” Michael says, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. Calum bites his lip. 

“Yes, I do.” He says slowly. “You know I do.” He gives Michael a knowing look. The older boy has knots in his chest. 

“I love you.” Michael says, grimacing as Calum opens the car door. 

“I love you more.” Calum says back, his eyes downcast. There’s a light on in the house, the one for the living room Michael realizes. He feels absolutely  _ sick _ . 

“Come back tomorrow, pup.” He says. It sounds stupid, but it means  _ so _ much. He can’t do this without Calum, he can’t do this knowing he’s hurting. 

“I will.” Calum says with a reassuring smile. “I always do.” 

Michael sits in the driveway for a long time after Calum leaves, his lights turned off. He’s not waiting or anything, he just...he’s not ready to drive yet, he doesn’t know. Maybe he’s just hoping that Calum will come running back through that door, climb into his car, and ask Michael to drive as far away as he could. 

He would do it without the slightest hesitation. 

Anything for his pretty boy.


	15. Ivory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, im sorry my updates are so spread out, im just kinda...insecure about this fic. idk.   
> Im really glad you guys seem to be enjoying it, though!!  
> This one is a filler, but be ready for the next update!!  
> Enjoy!  
> XX-Alex

A week and a half later were Calum’s auditions for the play. 

The boy was fidgeting in Michael’s car nervously, his hands twisted in his lap. Michael had Halsey playing, trying to calm his best friend down. Luke was in the back, singing quietly, Michael appreciated his younger friend. He was a little oblivious, but he always knew what the mood was when it came to Calum. 

He liked to sing when Cal was nervous or scared. 

Seemed to Michael like Luke was always singing some days. 

“You’ll be great, pup. I don’t even need to tell you.” Michael whispers, leaning back in his seat to look at Calum, who is biting his lip and looking out the window. 

“Yeah, Cal. You’ve worked so hard for this, I can’t imagine you  _ not _ getting it. “ Luke says, resting his head on Calum’s seat. 

“Everyone else has had months, I’ve only had weeks.” He says, looking at Michael. Michael shakes his head, and grabs Calum’s knee. 

“All the more reason you deserve to be up there.” He whispers. Calum looks unsure. 

“And even if you  _ don’t  _ get it, you’ll always have us here, waiting for you. We’re certainly not going to be in a play anytime soon.” Luke says. And, god, the knots in Michael’s chests have never loosened so drastically. He doesn’t give Luke enough credit, because that was  _ exactly  _ what Calum needed to hear. He wanted safety. He knew everything he could about the role and the audition, but what comes after it...no one knew. The only thing anyone  _ did  _ know was that he and Luke would be here for him. That was what mattered. 

“Thanks guys.” Calum breathes out eventually with a little smile. 

“Knock ‘em dead, Cally.” Luke said, climbing into the front seat when Calum got out. 

“Good luck, pup. I’ll be back at 7, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Calum nodded. He gave Michael a small smile, and Michael returned it. Then Calum turned and left, walking into the auditorium outside of their school. Michael wanted to be there with him, but Calum had told him that he wasn’t allowed in, and that he could do this on his own. 

Michael had apologized after that. 

“So,” Luke says, messing with Michael’s radio already. 

“So.” Michael says, rolling his eyes at Luke, who gives him a cheeky smile. 

“Looks like it’s you and me, asshat.” He says. Michael scoffs. 

“I’m pretty sure if anyone if the asshat here, it’s you, bud.” 

Luke flicks him. 

“Excuse me? Do you _ want _ me to crash the car?” Michael snaps, a lot harsher than he meant. Luke’s eyes go wide and confused, and he shrinks back. 

Dammit, Michael. 

Michael pulls the car into his driveway, and puts it in park. He keeps the doors locked, and looks at Luke. 

“Squirt?” He says gently, one hand on the steering wheel. Luke looks at him. “I...I didn’t mean to snap, I’m sorry.” 

Luke’s face breaks into a grin. 

“Did you just say ‘sorry’?” He laughs. Michael hates him. “Did Michael Clifford just say ‘sorry’ to  _ me?” _

Michael rolls his eyes, and unlocks the door, kicking Luke out. The dumb blonde is still laughing when they get inside, and Michael kind of wants to punch him. He sulks like a sad bulldog into the living room, turning on the t.v. He plops down on the couch, listening to Luke scavenge his fridge, flipping through the channels, thinking. 

Eventually, Luke comes back into the room, and plops down...right on top of Michael. 

“Ug,” Michael groans. “why do you always do this?” 

Luke adjusts himself so he’s more comfortable. Fucking idiot. 

“Because I can.” He says, resting his head on Michael’s shoulder. “Because you love me.” 

Michael scoffs, and nudges him, but doesn’t disagree. 

“Hey, Mikey.” Luke says, nuzzling Michael’s neck with his nose. 

“Hm.” Michael hums, trying to find something to watch until it’s time to pick up Calum. 

“Don’t be worried, okay? Calum’s got this.” He whispers. Michael sighs, and wraps one arm around Luke, pulling off, and pulling him into his side. Luke curls up, resting his head on his shoulder again. 

“How do you know?” Michael asks. “If he doesn’t get it, Luke, he’ll be so crushed, I don’t know if he can take that.” 

“I just know. He’ll get it, and if he doesn’t, like I said, we’ll be there for him. He’s strong, you know he is. He’ll be okay no matter what happens.” He says into the material of Michael’s shirt. Michael kind of likes the feeling. 

“When did you become the wise one?” Michael asks, dragging his fingers through Luke’s hair mindlessly, causing the younger to giggle. 

“I don’t know. When did  _ you _ become the affectionate one?” He giggles. Michael shakes his head, and removes his hand from Luke’s hair, laughing. 

“Long time ago.” He mutters. Luke cheeks look a little pink when he asks his next question. 

“Have you...have you told Calum?” He whispers. Michael tenses a little. There’s a lot of things he hasn’t told Calum when it comes to Luke. 

“About your school? No. I promised I wouldn’t.” He says back, he feels Luke shake his head. 

“No. Did you tell him about me being gay?” He asks, his voice is small. Michael shakes his head again. 

“That’s not my information to give.” He says simply. Luke cuddles him closer. 

“Thank you.” He breathes. He pulls back a little, like he’s touched a hot stove. “Does this bother you? Like, now that I’m gay?” 

Michael gives him a look. 

“You were always gay.” He offers. “Nothing has changed.” 

Luke shifts awkwardly, his cheeks pink. 

“But, does it…?” 

“No, squirt.” Michael says, pulling Luke closer with a sigh. 

“Sorry.” Luke mutters, but Michael just shakes his head. 

“Don’t apologize, it’s fine.” Michael whispers. Luke seems to curl tighter against him, and it’s not that bad, Michael thinks. Having this little blonde thing, who’s warm and has pink cheeks, and  _ likes _ him pressed against his side, watching t.v. on the couch. Michael would never admit this, but he actually kind of likes it. In some weird rush of affection, Michael ruffles Luke’s fringe, making him whine about screwing it up.  

Michael chuckles, but doesn’t mess with it again. 

“Sorry.” Michael laughs. Luke doesn’t say anything else, and Michael allows himself to relax. Calum will be okay. Everything will be okay. 

Luke breathes out against him, and Michael feels a weird,  _ weird _ twist in his stomach. He doesn’t know what it means, and he’s not sure he wants to. 

After a few hours of boring television, and Luke nearly falling asleep on Michael, the older boy finally got a text from Calum. Michael shook Luke awake, making fall off the couch, which of course, caused him to laugh like an idiot. 

When they pulled up to the school ten minutes later, Michael was a little confused to see Calum looking completely... _ normal _ when he walked out. He’d honestly been expecting either big smiles or tears. He wasn’t sure how to handle this, but when Calum opened the passenger door, and a gust of confidence blew it, along with Calum’s smell, he knew. 

“It go well?” He asked, Calum smiled small. 

“I think so.” He whispered. His cheeks were a little red, but Michael figured that was just from the cold. 

“Good.” He smiled, looking over his younger friend. Calum smiled back, and it seemed like they were having a deep moment until Luke interrupted them. 

“If y’all are done staring into each other’s eyes like damn newlyweds, I’d really enjoy some dinner.” 

Michael and Calum both laughed, so the older pulled his car out the parking lot, and drove towards Luke’s favourite fast food place. 

Half an hour later, when they’d eaten and dropped Luke off, and were sitting in front of Calum’s house, Michael placed his hand on Calum’s knee, maybe a bit higher than usual. His young friend blushed, but didn’t shy away. 

“Did it really go well?” He asks, and the smile Calum gives him answers the question. 

“Thank you for everything you do for me, Mikey.” Calum says, wrapping his fingers around Michael’s palm. 

“‘Course, Calum.” He smiles back. 

“I’m going to go in now.” Calum whispers out. Michael doesn’t want to let go, he’s not ready, but he does anyway. 

This time, when Calum walks up to his door, Michael feels much more confident in his best friend than he ever had before. 

 

-

 

_ “You don’t have to worry about them, they’re harmless.”  _

_ Michael looked up at the boy, whose skin was a dark, pretty brown, and whose eyes were just the same.  _

_ “I’m not worried.” He scoffed, leaning away from the boy, who gave him a brilliant smile.  _

_ “Good, then you can come out.”  _

_ Michael scowled. He didn’t want to come out.  _

_ “No. I don’t want to.” He said, crossing his arms. The boy looked friendly, but...no.  _

_ “Why not?” He asked. Michael didn’t like the frown on his face. Boy like him, so pretty, shouldn’t ever be frowning. Michael clenched his jaw, and thought about the question...he didn’t know how to answer it.  _

_ “Because, I just don’t. Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s not nice to ask so many questions?” He retorted eventually. The boy shrugged.  _

_ “Didn’t anyone ever tell you how to make friends?”  _

_ And, ouch. That struck a nerve. The words hurt, a lot actually, because, no. No one ever had taught Michael how to make friends. He was dropped off at school every day, and told ‘good luck’. He’d never had a friend a single day of his life.  _

_ “No.” He mumbled out. As much as these questions were bothering him, and as much as Michael didn’t like being pressured so much, he didn’t mind the company of the boy, even if he was one of the popular kids with a pretty smile and a happy voice. He decided that if he ever wanted it, the boy could join him in his hiding place.  _

_ The boy frowned a little bit, and gave Michael a confused look.  _

_ “No one? Not even your parents?” He asked, cocking his head to the side. Something in the back of Michael’s mind told him that the boy looked a little like a puppy.  _

_ “No.” Michael said again, his voice significantly quieter than before. The boy’s look became sad, sheltered almost, and he looked away from Michael.  _

_ “Oh.” He said. Michael frowned. He didn’t mean to make the boy sad. This was perfect, exactly what he needed, just another reason for kids to make fun of him. He ruins everything. “Well, then I’ll teach you.”  _

_ Michael looked up in shock at the boy, who was smiling again.  _

_ “C’mon, it’s easy.” He said, offering a hand that Michael looked over with suspicion.  _

_ “I don’t really want any friends.” He mumbled out, shrinking away.  _

_ “Why not? I’ve got loads of friends, they make me happy. Don’t you want some?” The boy asked.  _

_ “No.” Michael shook his head. “They’ll just leave.”  _

_ The boy frowned again. Michael thought for sure that he would leave this time, that he’d leave him alone in his hiding spot for the remainder of recess while all the other kids played outside. But he didn’t. In fact, he came further into the little cubby area, and shut the door behind him.  _

_ “What are you doing?” Michael asked, shoving himself into the far corner, away from the boy.  _

_ “I’m becoming friends with you.” The boy shrugged. The only light in the cubby came from a little crack in the door. Michael could see the spots of the boy’s cheek with it.  _

_ “But...why? I don’t even know your name.” Michael whispers. The boy shrugs, but sits down on the floor, and offers Michael a smile.  _

_ “I’m Calum.” He says, motioning for Michael to sit down with him. “And I want to be friends with you to prove that friends don’t leave.”  _

_ Michael scoffed, but joined the boy - Calum - on the floor.  _

_ “They do. Everyone does.” He whispers out. The other boy, in all his 8-year-old beauty, smiles brightly at Michael.  _

_ “I won’t.”  _

_ For the first time in all of Michael’s eight years, he’d made a friend.  _


	16. amaranth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for mentions of suicide and abuse

It was a friday. 

Calum had sent Michael a text saying that he was running a bit late, but Michael told him it was fine, and showed up to his house anyway. He pulled up at 7:20, like he always did, and sat and waited for his friend to come out. Luke was texting him, whining about how  _ he _ never gets picked up, but Michael just ignored him. 

After twenty minutes, and several ignored texts, Michael starts to get annoyed. He knows he’s not exactly the poster child for school or anything, but it would be better if he doesn’t get expelled for his ninth tardy in a one quarter. So, he calls Calum, and gets no answer. 

Irritated, Michael gets out of his car, and slams his door probably harder than necessary. He doesn’t mean to be so annoyed, but damn it, he picks Calum up everyday at 7:25, and to not only not come out, but to ignore him as well was so damn frustrating. Calum maybe a little shy and scared, but he’s not made of glass, and he can handle Michael’s annoyance. Michael storms up the front steps, and knocks on the door loudly. He balls his hands into fists, and taps his foot impatiently. It’s 7:45, and Calum still hasn’t answered him. Michael looks around the house, but there isn’t anyone there, and there aren’t any cars parked outside. So, with an annoyed sigh, he pushes the door open, and walks into the house. 

“Calum, damn it, where are you?” He says, walking through the clean front hall. He hears a weird bang from the kitchen, and so he goes there, finding Calum there, in his pajamas, on his knees, scrubbing the floor. 

“Calum…” Michael says, his eyebrows furrowing, watching as his shirtless best friend scrubs the floor aggressively, making weird, almost mumbling sounds to himself. His phone is on the kitchen counter. Michael immediately knows something is wrong. He drops his bag on the floor with a thump, and walks across the floor, nearly falling on his ass when he realizes how wet it is. 

“Hey, bud-” He says, dipping down to touch Calum’s shoulder. The boy reels backwards, almost like Michael’s touch burned him. Michael’s eyes widen as Calum falls onto the ground, slipping because of the water with wide, horrified eyes. 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” Michael soothes, reaching forward, touching Calum’s arms. Calum is breathing hard, looking at Michael with a confused expression. 

“M-Mikey?” He asks as Michael helps him stand up. Michael’s heart breaks when he sees how shaky Calum is standing up. 

“Yeah it’s me.” Michael says. He steadies Calum, and then hooks his hands under his armpits to hoist him onto the counter. Calum lands with a grimace, and Michael runs his hands down his arm in apology. 

“What’re you...what are you doin’ here?” Calum asks, his voice slurred. 

“I could ask you the same thing. You’re supposed to be at school.” Michael says. Calum scoffs. 

“What do you care? You skip school all the time anyway.” He says, yanking his hands away from Michael, who furrows his eyebrows in confusion. 

“Calum, what is the matter?” He asks, looking over his young friend. Calum curls in on himself when Michael looks at him. 

“Nothing.” He snaps. He slides off the counter, and grabs his rag again. Michael stops him by grabbing his wrist, causing the boy to flinch. He lets go quickly, apologetic. 

“Calum.” He says, making the boy face him. “What are you doing?” 

Calum drops his glare, and looks away from his older friend. 

“I, um...I wanted to clean.” He says, looking at the floor. 

“I see that…” Michael says, looking around the kitchen, and at Calum’s phone, that, upon closer inspection, is completely shattered. Something weird happened in this house. 

“There….there was this mess. I  _ made  _ a mess.” Calum says, his eyes filled with shame. 

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m sure you didn’t need to scrub the floor or anything.” Michael says, moving Calum so that he’ll sit down at the kitchen table. He’s worried about the mood swings his friend is getting. 

“But I made a big mess, Mikey.” Calum says, looking up at Michael with helpless eyes. Michael crouches in front of him, and takes his hand, turning his arms over to look at the skin. He finds light bruises on his left wrist, but that’s it, and he sighs with relief. After kissing Calum’s wrist, he looks up at his friend again. 

“Calum,” He says softly, standing up, looking at the kitchen. “what happened, pup?” 

Calum sighs, and looks away. 

“I...I dropped a jar of spaghetti sauce on the floor.” He says quietly. Michael thinks it’s the truth, but he also thinks that there’s something Calum isn’t telling him. 

“You dropped it this morning?” He asks, and Calum shakes his head. 

“Late last night.” He whispers. “I was...hungry.” 

Michael runs his hand through Calum’s hair comfortingly. 

“He came home early.” Calum says quietly. Michael pales, and grabs one of Calum’s hands. 

“Your dad?” He asks. Calum nods, his cheeks red. 

“I um....I assumed you’ve figured it out by now.” He says, and Michael nods, squeezing Calum’s hand. 

“Not all of it.” Michael says. “I knew  _ something _ was going on, I just...didn’t know what or who.” 

Calum nods. 

“I’m not….he doesn’t like when I, um, eat without his permission.” Calum mumbles. Michael feels knots twist themselves into his stomach. 

“Eat?” He asks, and Calum nods. “Jesus, Calum, that’s...that’s just sick.” 

Calum’s cheeks fill with colour, and he looks at the scrubbed floor. 

“I swear, it’s not bad. He just...he sometimes doesn’t let me eat, that’s it, I swear.” He says quietly. Michael squeezes his palms. 

“Calum, that’s not normal.” 

Calum shakes his head. 

“It’s not bad, Mikey. Lots of parents don’t let their kids eat what they want.” He says, looking back to Michael with too-bright eyes. Michael squeezes his hands harder, almost painfully. 

“They don’t Calum, normal parents-” 

“What do  _ you _ know about normal parents, Michael?” Calum says. Michael tries not be hurt, because it’s no secret that his parents aren’t the best, and it’s obvious that Calum is just bristling, just being defensive. Nevertheless, he still feels pain in his chest at the reminder coming from his best friend.  

“I know enough to realize that this isn’t okay.” He says eventually, raising an accusatory eyebrow. Calum frowns. 

“I get enough. I eat. I eat lunch, I eat with you. It’s okay.” He says quietly. Michael shakes his head. 

“That’s all he does, Calum?” He whispers. “He just...starves you?” 

“He doesn’t  _ starve _ me.” Calum says. “He just...doesn’t like when I do things without his permission. He doesn’t...” 

Michael rolls his eyes, and runs his fingers over Calum’s bare side, making the younger wince visibly. 

“Then why does this hurt, Calum? Why does it hurt so bad when I touch you?” He says, not breaking eye-contact with his friend. Calum’s expression bec omes dark and guarded. 

“Shut up.” He whispers, yanking his hands from Michael, and wrapping his arms around himself. Michael’s jaw drops, and he sits back. 

“What?” 

“ _ Shut up. _ ” Calum hisses, glaring at Michael. The older can see the tears hiding in his eyes. 

“Calum-”

“Shut up, Michael. Just shut up. Get out. I didn’t ask you to come here, leave.” He snaps, standing up so hard that his chair falls to the ground. Michael glares a little bit. 

“You didn’t  _ have _ to ask me to come, Calum, I fucking care about you, and when you don’t show up-”

“I never asked you to care, Michael! I never, ever asked for your attention!  _ You _ were the one that made that decision!” Calum screams, backing away from Michael, his cheeks turning red. 

“Jesus, Calum, I’m  _ so _ sorry that I decided to take time out of my life to  _ care  _ about you. I’m  _ so _ fucking sorry.” He says, running his fingers through his hair. 

“You should be, Michael! You’re making  _ me _ feel like shit because of it!” 

“Because I care about you?” Michael asks, his voice rising. 

“ _ Yes _ !” Calum screams. “I never asked you to see everything that happens, I never asked you to be my hero, Michael.” 

“I’m not your  _ hero _ , Calum.” Michael scoffs. “I’m your fucking _ friend _ .” 

“No, Michael, you’re my hero, and you want to know why?” Calum snaps, and Michael shrugs. 

“Be my guest.”

“Because if it wasn’t for you, I would have killed myself by now. I’d be dead!” Calum yells, his chest heaving. “You...you kept me from killing myself, you’re the reason I’m still breathing, the reason I go through hell every day. And you know what? Most days, I consider you my hero for that. I think the  _ world  _ of you most days, because you keep me  _ alive _ , but some days...I just think you’re holding me down. I could be free of this if it wasn’t for you. I could...I wouldn’t have to  _ hurt _ anymore. The reason I hurt, Michael, is for  _ you. _ Nothing would be worth it if it wasn’t for you. Everything has always been about you.” 

Calum’s crying by now, clear, wet tears falling down his cheeks. His arms are wrapped tightly around himself, and he’s rocking a little bit, taking in huge hiccups. Michael doesn’t know what to say, he just stands there, in Calum’s beautifully clean kitchen, just watching as his friend sobs because he doesn’t want to be alive.

“I’m sorry, Calum.” He whispers, backing away. He knows Calum doesn’t want contact right now. Calum just sobs harder as he moves away. “I don’t know what to say to that, and I’m sorry. I never meant for you to feel guilty. I never meant that. I just wanted you to be happy, and I’m sorry that I’ve completely fucked that up.” 

Calum sobs dryly again. Michael looks at the floor. 

“Please, Michael, just...go.” He whispers, and Michael nods. 

“I will.” He says, picking up his backpack. Before he leaves, he turns to Calum, who is leaning on the counter, his eyes squeezed shut, tears dripping off his jaw. “I want you to stay, Calum. I’m not going to lie, I  _ want _ that. But, I don’t go through what you do. Don’t feel like you’re obligated to stay for me. I wouldn’t ever do that to you. I’m not worth that.” 

Calum sobs again, but Michael forces himself to walk away, leaving his best friend to cry alone in his house. As he climbs in his car, he tries to wipe away the mistiness in his eyes before it could collect into tears. 

He has never hated himself as much as he does right now.


	17. sienna

Michael can’t bring himself to go to school. 

He knows that Calum would want him to, and that Luke is probably lonely at school, but Michael...he just can’t. He needs some time, to deal with...things. 

He drove home after the argument, not bothering to tell Luke that he wouldn’t be going to school. He went with blurry vision, driving a solid 20 miles over the speed limit. Maybe he was hoping to hit another tree, except this time he wouldn’t be lucky enough for just the car to be hurt. 

When he got home, he angrily threw all his belongings to the ground, and in an absolute fit of  _ uncontrollable _ anger, threw his fist into the nearest wall. 

He cried out in pain when his fist made contact, the drywall splitting under his knuckles. He didn’t mind, in fact, the pain was welcome. He knew that’s what he deserved. Pain. For making his best friend think he had to do something that made him hurt. 

He’s so fucking screwed up. So screwed up, so angry, so hurt. 

He just...he doesn’t know what to do. He’s so lost. He wants Sadie. Hell, he’d even take his dad. He just wants, for once in his life, for someone to tell him what to do. He didn’t know when he became the one to offer advice and consolation instead of receiving it. He wondered if he ever did. 

Michael closes his eyes, and rests his forehead against the wall, a wave of  _ something _ going over him. He thinks of Calum, scared and small and hurting, and his chest just  _ aches _ . Why couldn’t he fix anything? He tried so  _ fucking _ hard to make things okay for Calum. Not perfect, just  _ better.  _

It wasn’t good enough.

_ He  _ wasn’t good enough. 

Suddenly, Michael yells. He yells so loud that he’s sure the neighbors could hear him, but he doesn’t really care. They’ve been hearing him for years. The slightest sound seems to echo endlessly in a house that’s always empty. 

He screams, his fingers finding residence in his hair, pulling at the strands. He  _ hates _ himself so much. He’s never been very good at acknowledging his emotions, used to shoving them in a box because they were never  _ important _ . Not when Calum was struggling to even  _ walk _ or when his parents were  _ busy _ . So, he lets all his rage, his hopelessness, his  _ confusion _ out in a huge scream. The pain in his head from pulling his own hair feels good, a welcome distraction, but Michael  _ forces _ himself to get that out of his mind. Using pain as medication could lead to very dark, very lonely road. 

He’s thought about it before, self-harming. Days when Calum would go home and he’d be all  _ alone _ in his house with nothing but his thoughts for company. Days when he couldn’t  _ see _ straight because he hates the world. Days when Calum would go from one hell storm at school with a bruised lip to his house where apparently he doesn’t even get to  _ eat _ when he needs to. Days when he just feels so fucking empty and angry that the only thing he could think about was hurting himself because he could  _ control  _ that. He could  _ control _ that he’d hurt. It would make him feel better, make him forget about all the other shit in his life. It got to the point some days where he’d push on the bruises he’d gotten in fights because it  _ hurt _ , but it was never enough. 

The only reason Michael hadn’t done it yet was the same reason for everything else in his life.  

Calum. 

When he thought about causing himself his own pain, he thought about how much pain Calum goes through on a daily basis. He was being selfish, over-dramatic. If Calum could handle everything that happened to him, who in the  _ hell _ was Michael to take advantage of his own safety? Who was he to take pity on himself? He didn’t  _ deserve _ reprieve. Not when Calum was constantly tortured. 

He was given everything, a house, money, education, a best friend. 

What was his excuse? 

Michael screamed again, and punched another hole in the wall, his knuckles bruising from the impact. He didn’t know why he did it, but it felt  _ right _ . He liked when his hands were purple and split open, whether it be from a wall or some dickhead’s face, he didn’t care. 

It showed that he accomplished something. 

After another hit to the wall that didn’t even leave a mark, Michael turned, pressing his back to the wall, sinking to the ground. His chest felt like it was caving in, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t  _ see _ . He was drowning again, except this time, nothing was dragging him. This time, he was sinking on his own, and he could barely even see the surface anymore. 

He dropped his head into his hands, and breathed out, his voice making an awful grating sound. He needed to cry, but...he hadn’t cried in what felt like forever. He was supposed to be the strong one  _ dammit _ . How in the  _ fuck  _ could he let this  _ happen _ ? 

He forces himself to take a deep breath, to try and calm the damn sea he was drowning in, and it was slow, tortuous work, but it did work eventually. He didn’t know how fucking long he sat there, on the floor, his back to the wall that he had punched in sheer frustration. He focused on breathing in and out as steadily as possible, and tried to think about  _ anything _ other than Calum and his father, and the people at school. He couldn’t control it. He couldn’t stop it. He needs to get that, there is  _ nothing _ he can do. That’s that. 

The entire idea is hard to swallow, but he does it, and it leaves him with quiet tears rolling down his cheeks. Everything has fallen apart for him. His parents come home soon, and then they’ll be off again, really the only reason they own the house is to keep Michael there and occasionally stock up on clothes. Michael doesn’t even blame them. If he had the chance to constantly be moving, to never stay in one place, he would do it. 

He would just be smart enough to not leave a piece behind. 

Michael is messed up, there’s something seriously wrong with him. Why is he sitting on the floor? What’s his problem?  _ God,  _ Calum’s probably at home, getting  _ beaten _ , and Michael can’t just  _ sit here,  _ can he?

He’s just moving to get himself up because he’s so damn  _ weak _ , when the front door of his house opens. 

Which is weird. 

His parents and Sadie both come through the garage. 

For a second, Michael thinks that’s it’s probably a robber, and maybe he’ll shoot Michael when he sees him there. It would be perfect. The thief wouldn’t even know how bad he wanted him to pull the trigger. 

However, it turns out to be the second best thing to getting a bullet in his head. 

“Mikey?” 

God, Michael almost sobs. It’s Luke. Fucking beautiful Luke who has a - _ dammit _ \- key to his front door. He’s walking through the entry hallway, and Michael decides that school must be over, meaning he sat on the floor, trying to control his downward spiral for close to five hours. What a fucking mess he is. 

“Michael.” Luke says, his voice much closer. Michael has the energy to turn his head to the right, the direction of Luke’s voice. He can see the blonde’s shoes, turned towards him. Luke has seen him, he must be staring at him. Michael lifts his eyes eventually. Luke is just...looking at him. 

“Hi Luke.” He mutters, tossing his head back against the wall with a sickening thud. He can hear Luke’s gentle footsteps across the hardwood, his converse squeaking slightly. He stops in front of Michael, and the older boy looks up. 

Luke looks bad with that  _ thing _ in his eyes, and by now, Michael has concluded that it has something to do with him, he just hasn’t decided if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. His jaw is clenched, and he looks almost... angry. 

He drops to his knees in front of Michael so hard, Michael is afraid something broke. Michael looks into his eyes weakly. They’re so pretty, the colour of a calmed ocean. Michael thinks it’s ironic that he kind of wants to drown in them. 

He doesn’t think he’d mind drowning in the sea of Luke’s eyes. 

“Oh, Michael.” Luke says, and it’s his hand that comes next, stroking Michael’s stubble-covered jaw. Michael leans into the touch despite himself. Luke’s hands are soft, and his fingers are calloused from his guitar strings. 

“Hey Luke.” He says again, softer this time. “What’re you doing here?” 

Luke smiles a little. 

“An anonymous tip said you might need me.” He whispers, and god, Michael’s stomach  _ burns _ .

_ Fucking Calum. _

He shakes his head. 

“Calum told you.” He says, and Luke bites his lip. 

“Not really. He just told me that you were...probably unstable.” He says. He looks guilty. “My phone died at lunch, right before he texted me. I didn’t see his text until last period. I had to borrow Brendan’s charger.”

Michael grimaces. 

“C’mon.” Luke says, grabbing Michael’s hands and hauling him up. Michael goes easily, his muscles sore and his joints cracking from having sat in the same position for so damn long. Luke wraps an arm around his waist, under the guise of physically supporting him, but Michael knows it’s more emotional than that.

“Where are we going?” Michael mutters, stumbling through the house with Luke. 

“Kitchen. It’s okay.” Luke says gently. Michael kind of likes the way his hands feel on his waist. Luke guides him to the large room, and forces him onto the counter. It’s kind of funny, Luke’s a little shorter than him, and he has to stand on his tiptoes, and grab his hips to put him there. Michael thinks it’s dumb that he thinks it’s funny. Luke is trying to help. 

Luke is a good person.

Michael sits on the counter for him, feeling weirdly groggy. He watches as Luke digs under the sinks, muttering something to himself. Michael squints, confused by what he’s doing.  

“It’s upstairs.” He says, and Luke raises an eyebrow at him. 

“What is?” 

“The first aid kit? If that’s what you’re looking for, it’s upstairs in my bathroom. Calum left it there.” He mutters, and Luke nods, getting up like he’s going to get it. “Why do you need it?” 

“Your hands, they’re bleeding, Mikey, they could get infectected, and-”

Michael scoffs. 

“This is nothing, just leave it, Luke.” He says, but Luke ignores him. 

“I’m cleaning you up, Michael. There is nothing you can do about it.” He sasses when he comes back, the little blue box in his hands. He sets it on the counter, and opens it, searching for the bottle hydrogen peroxide. Michael watches him, intrigued by the way his golden eyelashes hit his cheek bones. He eventually finds it, and pours it over a piece of napkin on the counter. He dabs it on Michael’s split knuckles, the older hissing in pain. 

“Sorry.” Luke whispers, not looking up from his hands. His fingers move over the cuts gently, covering them with the stinging liquid before patting them dry. He looks focused, kind of like with his guitar, but in this case, his tongue isn’t hanging out of his mouth. For a second, Michael even thinks he looks kind of cute. 

When he’s finished, he wraps Michael’s hands in soft gauze, and pats them gently. He lets go slowly, and looks up at Michael, who is still shaken from the events of the day, but better now that Luke is here. 

“I don’t know what happened at Calum’s, and I don’t know what was going through your head, but it’s okay now.” He whispers, and Michael looks away. 

“It isn’t okay.” 

“Why?” Luke asks, his head cocking, his voice serious. Michael shakes his head. 

“I’ve tried everything to keep him safe, Luke, and it just hasn’t been good enough.  _ I _ haven’t been good enough.” He says, his head hanging in shame. Luke, for a second, doesn’t know how to respond to that, and he just sits back, taking in the information. 

“You’ve given him everything, Mikey. I know you feel like that’s not good enough, but it’s all you have.” He whispers back. Michael bites his lip, he can feel his eyes collecting tears. He still won’t look Luke in the eye. The younger tips his face to look at him. 

“You do nothing but care for us.” He says, gripping Michael’s hand. “Maybe it’s time you let someone take care of you.” 


	18. white

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys  
> soz. i've been on like a five-month hiatus. whoopsies. yall deserve better.   
> anyways, i hope you guys enjoy!!  
> XX-Alex

Luke doesn’t go home until the next morning. 

After he said what he said to Michael, the older boy broke down into tears, and found himself incapable to do anything but sob. 

Luke was very gracious, he held Michael’s hand, and stroked his hair. He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t wipe his tears away, it was like he knew. He knew Michael needed to let it out. He needed to listen to the voices in his head for a second, and he needed to feel tears drip off his cheeks for the first time in at least two years. 

Despite Michael feeling like actual shit all day, it felt good to cry. 

He imagined that it was better than what self-harming would have felt like. 

With that in mind, Michael had almost fell off the counter, and into Luke’s arms. The boy held him quietly, his hands soft around his waist. Michael couldn’t imagine what he would do without Luke there. The boy stroked back his unruly hair, and kissed the top of his head. 

“You should re-dye this.” He says. Michael hiccups, and looks up slowly. 

“W-What?” He asks, his chest shaking. Luke smiles gently. 

“Your red is fading. I think we should re-dye it.” He says, and Michael furrows his eyebrows. Suddenly, he feels a little...weird. Usually Calum helps him dye his hair, but Luke…

“I know that look, Mikey.” Luke says, chuckling a little. “Don’t say no, okay? I want to do that with you. I even have an idea for a colour.”

And that breaks it for Michael. Calum never knew what colour he should choose, he just nodded and smiled when Michael help up suggestions. Luke...he already had a colour. He considers it for a second. 

“O-Okay.” He hiccups out, and Luke smiles. He squeezes Michael’s waist, and helps the boy put his weight on his own feet as opposed to leaning heavily on Luke. Michael tips his head on Luke’s shoulder for a second in affection. 

“Thank you.” 

Luke nods with a little smile before backing away. He looks hesitant, the  _ thing _ in his eyes again. Michael decides that he  _ hates  _ the  _ thing _ . 

“C’mon, go to the bathroom, and clean yourself up, Mikey.” He says, shooing the older away as he turns to clean up the mess he made with the first aid kit. Michael watches him for a second, Luke looks like he’s debating with himself, looks distracted, and he looks.... _ older _ . Michael wonders if everything he goes through at home makes him wise beyond his sixteen years. 

Michael knows that it’s like that for him and Calum, but Luke….Luke was supposed to be their light, their pure angel whose innocence would make the world seem better for the two desperate friends. Michael realizes that although Luke may not be pure, he’s definitely still an angel. Maybe no angels are pure, and that’s what makes them so amazing. 

“Okay.” Michael mutters, and he staggers off into the bathroom. He leans on the sink, looking at his reflection slowly. He looks better than he feels, definitely. His hair is jarred up, of course, but his face looks pretty normal. It just looks like he’s been crying, which, yes, but other than that, he’s alright. Thank the lord. He couldn’t go out in public looking like he felt. 

He washes his face and hands quickly, thinking about what Calum is doing. Is he at home? Is his dad home? Is he hungry? Is he safe? Is he  _ alive _ ?

Michael shakes that from his head. 

Calum wouldn’t ever leave without saying goodbye. 

“Mikey? You ready to go?”

Michael hiccups, and he forces himself to focus. Luke. Luke is here. Luke will keep him together. 

“Yeah, I’m comin’, sorry.” 

Luke smiles gently at him when he comes out, wrapped up in his giant flannel jacket that is still too big. 

“Luke, where did you get this?” He asks out of nowhere, his fingers pinching the soft material around Luke’s shoulders. Luke gave him a funny look and shrugs. 

“It’s a hand me down.” He says, a tiny blush creeping up his neck. Michael scrunches his eyebrows, and feels the material for another second. The  _ thing _ in Luke’s eyes comes back with a vengeance. 

“Mikey?” He asks. Michael snaps himself out of his trance, and pulls his fingers away. Luke is looking at him strangely, and Michael doesn’t blame him. 

“Sorry, it’s just...so  _ big  _ on you, Luke.” He mutters as he turns away to grab his keys. Luke grabs his wrist. 

“Michael? Are you alright?” 

Michael chuckles. 

“Are you?” 

Luke bristles, and lets go of Mikey’s wrist. His arm comes to wrap around his stomach loosely. He looks scared, hesitant and afraid. 

“No, I don’t think I am, but that’s not why I’m here.” Luke says gently, his voice so smooth that it covers all of Michael’s jagged edges, it takes the fight out of him. He doesn’t want to ask any more questions. He won’t be Luke hero. He won’t be Luke’s burden.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me, I just-”

“It’s okay.” Luke says, shaking his head. “I get it. Some days are like this, it’s alright.” 

Michael hangs his head, and takes a deep breath. Luke waits patiently beside him. Michael tells himself to get it together. 

“Okay.” He exhales, looking at his bandaged knuckles. “I’m ready now.” 

Luke smiles softly. 

The two of them climb into Michael’s car, and Luke plugs in his phone, droning on about some new band he found. It takes Michael a minute, but Luke is rambling. For some fucking  _ stupid _ reason, it makes Michael feel good. Listening to Luke talk about fucking stupid things. Maybe it’s because Calum never talked when it was just those two, and believe it or not, Michael actually  _ did _ get tired of his own voice. Luke’s was a welcome change. 

At the store, Luke forced Michael to stay in the car, because he wanted to surprise Michael with the colour. Michael rolled his eyes because there was no way he  _ wouldn’t _ know what his next hair colour was, but Luke insisted, and Michael was weak. Luke ran in, and eight minutes later, came bounding out, a plastic bag in his hands. He climbs into the car with an air of adolescence. Michael thinks he likes how young Luke is, even if he’s aged mentally. 

“Got it.” He says breathlessly, his cheeks pink. Michael laughs at him, and pulls out of the parking lot, racing home while Luke “discreetly” looks at the box. Michael still can’t tell what colour it is. 

“This is going to be  _ great! _ ” Luke says, reading over the box. Michael laughs, and it feels good, to laugh. Luke makes him laugh, makes him feel good. 

Luke all but runs into the house, the bag in hand when they get there. Michael follows him easily, and when he gets inside, Luke is sitting on the kitchen counter, reading the box while bouncing his leg on the counter. 

“Pink?” Michael asks, leaning on the counter next to Luke. The blonde blushes a bit. 

“Yeah.” Luke shrugs. “Have you done it before?” 

Michael shakes his head. 

“Awesome.” Luke smiles. “I thought, maybe, like, pink for Calum.”

Michael stills. He looks at Luke slowly, raising an eyebrow. Luke bites his lip. 

“It’s his favourite color, isn’t it?” Luke says quietly. 

Michael nods. 

“Yeah, it is.” He looks at Luke softly. Luke smiles sheepishly at him. 

Michael, in an unbelievably weird surge of affection, leans forwards, and wraps his arms around Luke. The boy gasps, but slowly hugs Michael back. Michael is intrigued by how small Luke is in his arms, thin and bony. He finds it hopelessly endearing the way Luke’s hands fist in his t-shirt, and his head rests on his shoulder. Luke is still seated on the counter, and Michael is situated between his legs. Luke’s feet occasionally hit his legs. Luke breathes out against him, and Michael squeezes him for a second before pulling away.

“Thank you.” He says, looking into Luke’s eyes. The blonde smiles, and squeezes Michael’s hands. 

“Of course.” He whispers. 

Neither of them mention the hug. 

Several hours later, when Michael has washed out his hair, and fluffed it with a towel, he and Luke were getting ready for bed. It was kind of weird, having Luke stay the night. He hadn’t had anyone stay overnight since he was fourteen. It was odd to watch Luke change, which...okay. That definitely sounds weird, but Michael doesn’t like boys...so. 

Luke ended up in his bed, stealing all the blankets, and laughing when Michael, who was also in his bed, complained about it. 

“Fuck, Luke, I’m cold.” He whined, but Luke just giggled, and burrowed himself deeper. Michael didn’t have the heart to really be angry, all he did was kick weakly at his younger friend, and pull the blankets closer to himself. 

It took a long time for Luke to fall asleep, and Michael didn’t know why, but he didn’t want to sleep until Luke did. So, he laid awake, staring at the ceiling while Luke twisted and turned whilst trying to get situated. Normally, it would have irritated Michael, but with Luke, it was almost endearing. Michael figured he didn’t get much sleep anyway. When he finally did fall asleep, Michael looked over at him. He was snoring quietly, his fringe parted awkwardly down the middle. Michael chuckled. 

Just as he was setting back to sleep for himself, his phone, carefully plugged in on his bedside table, vibrated. Michael raised an eyebrow, but grabbed it nonetheless, and squinted in the bright light. It was Calum.

“Hi.” He says lightly into the phone, making a point to keep his voice soft. 

“Hello.” Calum whispers back. 

They’re quiet now, just breathing into the phone quietly, waiting for the other to talk first. 

“Calum?” Michael says eventually. Calum breathes out. 

“About this morning-” 

“Let’s just forget it.” Michael says. He’s not snappy, he just wants to do what’s best for Calum. Calum exhales slowly. 

“I’m so, so sorry for what I said.” 

“Don’t worry about it, Calum. I forgive you, it’s not important.” 

“It is important.” 

“It isn’t.” Michael retorts. “You just snapped, it happens to everyone. We don’t need to bring it up again.” 

It’s quiet for a second. Michael can’t hear Calum breathing, so he knows the younger probably has his bottom lip wedged between his teeth. 

“Thank you.” He says eventually. Deliberately.

“No problem.” Michael says back quickly. He just wants Calum to feel better. He doesn’t want him to worry that he’s losing his best friend, because he’s not. 

“I just...I called just to make sure things were-” 

“When have they ever not been okay?” Michael chuckles. Calum laughs lightly too. 

“We’ve never been in a fight like that before. I’ve never yelled like that.” He whispers. 

“It’s good for you.” Michael says. Calum scoffs. 

“Yelling at my best friend is  _ not _ good for me.” 

“Sure it is. It keeps me down to earth.” Michael offers, and Calum laughs. 

“Maybe I should yell at you more often then.” 

“Can’t have my head getting too big, can we?” Michael laughs, and Calum chuckles in return. 

“No, we can’t.” Calum pauses. “I meant what I said today, though, Mikey. You keep me alive. You’re my hero.” 

Michael takes a breath. It’s like a punch to the gut. 

“I’m no hero, Cal.” 

“You are to me.” Calum whispers. “Isn’t that enough?” 

Michael bites his lip. Calum really knows how to play him. 

“Yeah. Of course it is.” He says. Calum pauses again. 

“I’m sorry I’ve put this on you.” Calum says, and his voice is small, riddled with insecurity. Michael scoffs. 

“Calum, I wouldn’t want it any other way. I love you.” He says, so quick, he barely even registers it. It’s the truth, and it kind of shocks him that he is just now acknowledging it. 

Calum laughs, but it’s different, it sounds...wet. 

Calum’s crying. Again. 

“I love you too.” He hiccups. 

“Please don’t cry, pup.” Michael whispers. Calum laughs again. 

“I’m sorry, I just...It feels so good to know someone is there. To know that  _ you’re  _ there.” He exhales. 

“I always have been, Calum. Why would I stop now?” 

There’s a rustle, and Michael figures that Calum is shrugging. 

“I don’t know.” He says. Michael smiles softly, even though Calum can’t see him. Luke mutters something in his sleep next to him.

“Luke’s here for you too.” He says, and Calum is quiet. 

“He’s here for both of us. I’m really grateful for him. I know you’re not the biggest fan, but I-” 

“Calum.” Michael cuts him off. “It’s fine. I like him.” 

Michael strokes a hand through Luke’s hair, and the boy seems to  _ reach _ for it in his sleep. It makes Michael’s heart hurt. 

“Something is up with him, isn’t there, Mikey?” Calum asks gently. Michael sighs. 

“Yes.” He says. 

“Something with his family. I mean...I’m not one to judge, but...that dinner...something wasn’t right.” 

“Yeah.” Michael says. “Jack says that his mum hates him.” 

Calum gasps. 

“Really?” He asks.

“Yeah.” Michael says, looking over the sleeping blonde. “I guess everyone in his family except Jack does.” 

“I would never...Luke, he seems so…”

“Happy?” Michael asks. Calum hums in confirmation. 

“I think that’s just who he is as a person. He was happy because we needed it. He puts others before himself.” 

Calum hums. 

“Like you.” 

Michael scoffs. 

“Hardly.” He says, and Calum laughs a little. 

“I hope he’ll be okay.” Calum says. 

“I think he will be.” Michael says, smoothing Luke’s hair again. 

They’re quiet again, and Michael counts the number of breaths Calum takes in the time they don’t talk. 

“Calum?” He says. 

“Yes?” Calum answers. 

“I’m going to forget about the fight we had this morning.” He says slowly. “But I’m not going to forget what I saw when I got there.”

Calum’s breathing stops momentarily, and Michael is concerned before the younger finally exhales gently. 

“I didn’t think you would.” 

“I’m not going to make you talk about it.” Michael says. “But I want you to know that I know.” 

“You’ve always known, Mikey. Now you just know for sure.” Calum says quietly.

“Still.” Michael says. 

Calum sighs. 

“It’s not bad, Mikey.” 

“Yes it is. Don’t lie, Calum.” Michael says, his voice firming. 

“It isn’t. He just...he gets angry when I do things without his permission, or when I screw up. It’s not that bad.” He says, his voice edging on desperate. Michael sighs. 

“He hurts you, Cal. That  _ is _ bad.” He says gently. He doesn’t want Calum to get upset again. He knows he’s pushing his luck. 

“I know.” Calum sighs. “Can you just...can you let me think that it’s okay? It...it makes me feel better.” 

Michael feels his stomach twist. He feels guilt right away. 

“Yeah.” He says. Calum sighs, apparently in relief. Michael’s stomach is twisted in deadly knots as he hears a door slam from Calum’s end. Calum sighs. 

“I better go, Mikey.” 

“Cal-” Michael starts. He doesn’t want Calum to get hurt. 

“You can’t stop it. It’s okay. I can handle it.” Calum says, his voice sugary soft. Michael feels so useless. 

“Good night, Michael.”

Before Michael can even respond, Calum’s line goes dead. Michael drops his phone slowly onto the bed.

He hated to know that right now, Calum is probably in pain. But then, Michael thinks, Calum is probably always in pain. 

It’s a dark thought, and it makes Michael want to throw up. 

Needless to say, when Luke’s rolls over, so that’s he’s half-laying on Michael’s chest, the older boy cuddles him back. He definitely needs the comfort his youngest friend is trying to provide him. 

And that’s it, the fact that even in his sleep, Luke seems to always want to be sure Michael is okay, that’s what breaks Michael. 

He falls asleep hours later, when he’s finally run out of tears.


	19. canary

The stroke of good luck that Michael desperately needs comes five days later. 

He and Luke were sitting in his car after school, Luke messing with the radio, and Michael nervously gripping the wheel. Calum was inside, on his own, reading the play list, which had just come out. Michael hated having Calum alone in the school, but there wasn’t much he could do. He knew this was something Calum needed to do on his own. 

Still, it took a long time, and by the time Calum came back to the car, getting in the back seat (weird), Michael’s knuckles were white and his jaw was aching from being clenched. 

The older, pink-haired boy raised an eyebrow at Calum, and the boy, much to Michael’s relief, smiled brightly. Michael’s chest collapsed in that moment, because he knew what that smile meant. He smiled back at his friend, whose cheeks were turning pink. 

At the moment, it seemed as though Luke remembered why they had been waiting, and he turns around, looking at Calum with bright blue eyes. 

“So?” He asks, all-but bouncing in the seat in excitement. 

Calum bites his lip. 

“Dammit, Calum, what happened in there?” Luke asks. 

“I’m in.” He whispers, and Luke howls in happiness. Michael smiles proudly at his friend, and rolls his eyes in a fond manner at Luke. 

“That’s fucking awesome, Calum.” Michael says, reaching back, and knocking his knuckles against his knee. 

“Thanks.” Calum whispers back sheepishly. 

“I say we fucking celebrate.” Luke says, grinning at Michael. Michael smirks, and looks at Calum, who shrugs with a smile. 

“Party animal, this one.” Michael says, shoving Luke’s shoulder. 

“Always.” Luke says, winking at Michael. Michael rolls his eyes, and put his car into gear. 

“Drinks it is, I guess.” He mutters, pulling away from the school. Luke continues to jabber on in his seat about what they should do, and Michael acknowledges him just so he thinks someone is listening. 

However, when they pull up to a red light, Michael looks in his rear-view mirror, at Calum, who’s smiling softly to himself. His pretty brown eyes, framed by black, winged eyeliner and wide, like he still can’t believe what happened. 

Michael feels something new in his chest then. Looking at his best friend, who is  _ happy _ for once, Michael feels hope.

 

-

 

With Calum now in the play, Michael and Luke were left with a lot of time alone with each other. 

It wasn’t a bad thing, per say, it was just...weird. Michael still wasn’t entirely sure how to act around Luke, the only times they had been alone, one of them had a mental breakdown. Michael seemed to be holding his breath a lot of times around Luke, which, okay. Not the best situation. 

Aside from the initial awkwardness though, Luke was  _ fun _ . 

Michael felt so guilty for thinking it, but being with Luke was fun and entertaining, almost more so than Calum. 

Calum was fun and entertaining too, but only to a certain extent. Calum was much more quiet than Luke, and he balanced Michael out. Michael loved him for it. 

But sometimes, he just needed a little adventure in his life. 

Luke provided. 

Growing up on the opposite side of the city, Luke had countless places to show Michael. It started with some old record shop in such a shady alley that Michael gripped Luke’s t-shirt, and it moved on to dimly-lit bowling alleys, and beautiful parks with sad stories, and a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop that Michael fell in love with the  _ second _ he heard “Always” playing through the speakers. 

Luke had been especially proud of that place. Michael could tell by the way his younger friend had smirked at him over his shoulder. 

“The owners were 18 in the 90’s. All their music is prime. The coffee’s good too.” He had said, and Michael laughed. 

He and Luke went to the coffee shop a lot. Internally, he kind of wondered if it was their version of the pier. The pier had been Calum and Michael’s hiding place ever since he could remember, even before everything went wrong. Maybe Luke came to the shop when he was sad or forgotten, and things felt better, because here...no one would judge him for having outdated fringe, or for always carrying around a guitar with chipped paint, or listening to music that was before his time. 

Maybe Luke felt safe here, and Michael was honoured that he got to share it with him. 

Luke grew on Michael, of course he did. 

He had been growing on Michael since the day he met him, like some kind of terminal fungus. But now, with just one-on-one time with him, Michael started to understand better. Luke was the youngest, he had grown up as sheltered, and for a long time, he was oblivious to everything in the world. Michael figured that out by the way Luke enjoyed the little things, like digging through decade-old records in a dusty shop to the way he sniffed the beautiful flowers in the park where some kid had committed suicide years ago to the way he hummed along to every song in the coffee shop while tracing the carvings in the wood tables. 

Luke, in short, was amazing. 

Young, pretty, and with his entire life ahead of him. His voice was of heavenly skill, and his eyes must have made angels jealous. He was so kind to everyone, he still looked at the glass as half-full, even when it seemed like the world had turned against him. 

It took Michael awhile, but he finally realized that Luke was  _ just _ like Calum in that way. They enjoyed the little things, and even Luke wasn’t as obvious, Michael knew that he enjoyed the  _ pretty _ things, like Calum does. They both had every reason to hate the world, but neither of them did. They both held out hope for things getting better. No wonder he had grown on Michael so much. 

On the days where Luke couldn’t think of another place to show Michael, or was too tired to do so, they spent time at Michael’s house, watching movies or playing video games. They never cooked together like he and Calum did, but they ordered pizza, and called that good. 

Michael didn’t mind, he would sit for hours with Luke, just playing video games, or sometimes screwing around on their guitars. Michael wasn’t very good, but Luke...god, Luke was gifted. 

Luke, Michael decided, was born to play music. 

He tells him such on a Thursday where Calum is practicing late for the play, and it’s been raining so they couldn’t go anywhere. 

“Squirt, you’re really good.” He says, after they tried their hands at playing a McBusted song. Michael missed a solid half of the notes, but fucking Luke...maybe missed two notes. Douche bag. Luke laughs, and leans on his guitar, looking over Michael’s laptop. 

“Thanks, Mikey. Glad to know I’m good at something.” He smiles, scrolling through their list of possible songs. Michael rolls his eyes, and sticks his foot out to kick at Luke’s bony knee. 

“Shut up, Hemmings. You’re really fucking good. You better do something with that guitar of yours. It’s your ticket out of here.” He says, quirking an eyebrow. Luke scoffs, and continues scrolling. 

“It’s not. I could never make it out alone.” 

“You could.” Michael insists. “You’re good enough.” 

Luke rolls his eyes. 

“Do you know how many kids want to become solo artists? There are thousands of people like me, Mikey. It takes more than just a guitar and an alright voice to make it anywhere.” Luke says, looking at Michael with those bright blue eyes. Michael scoffs. Luke is ridiculous. A face like his, along with his voice, and his guitar, and his floppy hair, he definitely had a chance. He would grow up, become tall and strong, and he would be the face of pop rock music. Every girl in the world would fawn over him. 

Then, Michael laughs at how ironic that is. 

Luke furrows his eyebrows at him, and strums a dark chord progression on his guitar. 

“Don’t laugh at me.” He says weakly. 

“I’m not. It just astounds me how ignorant you are of your own talent.” 

Luke rolls his eyes again. 

“Mikey, stop.” He says gently, picking at the pain of his guitar. “I’ll never make it out of here, don’t try and give me false hope.” 

Michael tightens his knuckles on the neck of his guitar. 

“Luke, look at me.” He says, and it sounds harsh, almost  _ too _ harsh. Luke snaps his head up, his eyes wide. “Would I do that to you?”

Luke looks away, so Michael grabs his chin, and turns his face to look at him. 

“I wouldn’t say that to you unless I really believed It.” He says. “I wouldn’t lead you on about something like this.” 

Luke rolls his eyes, and wrenched his face from Michael’s grip. 

“I appreciate that you believe in me, Michael, but I...I have no chance.” He whispers. Michael sighs, but decides not to push it. 

“Okay, Luke. If you really believe that.” He says. It’s not supposed to be bitchy, but dammit, Luke just...he needs to understand. Luke looks momentarily hurt, but it disappears quickly as he picks a new song for them to try. 

Michael nods at his suggestion, and that’s it, end of conversation. For now, at least. Michael knows that Luke is wrong.

He’s determined to prove it. 

 

-

 

“Do you like it?” 

Calum looked over at Michael, an eyebrow raised. 

“The play.” Michael explains. 

Calum nods with a small smile. 

The two of them are laying on Calum’s bed, pressed together because of the small width of the bed, looking up at the ceiling, where Calum carefully glued glow-in-the-dark stars in constellations. It’s approaching midnight, so they have to stay quiet, which Michael doesn’t really mind, because they’re quiet a lot of the time anyway. He had snuck in through Calum’s window several hours ago, armed with Nerds and pink lemonade. He missed his best friend. 

“Yeah. Everyone is so nice, Mikey.” He whispers back.

“Really?” Michael asks. He was genuinely surprised. Calum smiles. 

“Yeah.” He whispers. “I guess I figured that everyone in the school kind of sucked, but the theatre kids...they’re so nice, and so  _ gifted _ .”

Michael reaches over, and intertwines their fingers. Calum squeezes him palm. 

“I’m glad they’re nice to you.” 

“They are, Mikey.” He whispers, because he knows Michael is protective, and he knows that Michael needs to know that he’s safe there. Michael exhales a lot of worry. 

“And the actual play?” He asks, and Calum hums. 

“It’s good too. I’ve never really acted before, so it’s kind of a challenge, but it’s not bad.” He says. Michael squeezes his fingers. 

“I’m not Belle, by the way.” 

Michael snaps his head to look at Calum. 

“Why not?” He asks gently. 

“Feldmann apparently got chewed out for auditioning a boy for a traditionally female part.” He says. He doesn’t sound sad, or anything, just informative. 

“That’s stupid.” Michael says. Calum shrugs. 

“He’s a new teacher. The parents would have thrown a fit, and he would’ve been fired. Not to mention what could happen to me.” Calum says. Michael knows it disappointed Calum, but he’d probably been expecting it. He also knew that if Jackson and Max found out, it would just add to the list of reason to beat the shit out of him. Yet, Calum tried out for the part anyway. Michael envied his courage. 

“Still.” Michael whispers, turning on his side. Calum doesn’t look at him, just stares at the ceiling. 

“I knew I wouldn’t be her, Mikey. Not just because I’m a boy, I’m not ready. I’ve never been in a play, and I certainly couldn’t be a lead role on my first try.” He says. Michael pulls on his hand so that Calum is forced to look at him. Michael thinks his eyes are pretty. He hasn’t taken all his makeup off yet, so a bit of eyeliner remains, and god, Michael is so in love with such a pretty boy. 

 

Michael catches himself staring seconds after Calum does. 

God, Michael’s never seen Calum get so red. It’s quite cute, really, the way his cheeks inflame, and he turns to hide in his pillows. 

“Stop.” He whispers, and Michael laughs.

“Sorry. You're beautiful.” He mutters, and Calum chuckles sheepishly into the bedding. 

“You’re so dumb.” Calum says, pushing their combined hands into Michael's side. 

“I know.” Michael whispers. Calum slowly takes his face from the pillow in favour of pushing it into Michael’s shoulder. Michael lets go of Calum’s hand, and puts his hand between his shoulder blades, pulling him closer. Calum comes easily. Michael pushes his nose into his friend’s curls, and he feels good. He feels at home here. He wishes he never needs to leave. 

Calum’s lips brush the skin of his neck when he talks next. 

“Will you stay?” He asks. His voice his small, weak, insecure, like he’s afraid Michael will say no. As if. 

“Yeah, of course.” He mutters. Calum hums against his skin, and this seems...familiar. Like a book. 

“Did you just quote ‘Hunger Games’ at me?” He asks Calum. The younger chuckles a little. 

“Didn’t think you’d notice.” He whispers. 

“You’ve read it to me.” 

“A long time ago.” Calum says. Michael furrows his eyebrows. Why would he remember it? 

“Cal-”

“I told you that I had a crush on Peeta.” Calum mutters. 

“And I told you it was impossible to fall in love with a character.” Michael says. He remembers now. “And you said that you liked the way he treated Katniss. I remember.” 

Calum nods, and wraps an arm around Michael’s waist. 

“Can’t believe you remember.” He says. Michael nods. He knows exactly why he remembers. He wanted to treat Calum the way Peeta treated Katniss. He made that promise to himself a long time ago. 

“I wouldn’t forget.” He whispers. He can feel Calum smile. 

“I mean it, though.” Calum says, his voice muffled by Michael’s shirt. “I want you to stay.” 

Michael nods, and leans on Calum’s head. 

“I will.” He says, then in the ultimate form of plagiarism, he parrots. “Always.” 


End file.
